Lucky 7
by Cinerari
Summary: CG-verse; Yama was far from Gaia's first pick, and when you still have assassins leftover who are trained to kill Harlock, might as well put them to use. (Contains major character death.)
1. High Card

**Don't ask what this is. I don't know what this is. Sometimes I just have to write dumb trash. I say that like everything I write isn't dumb trash, haha. Anyway, since we all know the CG movie is a weird fan fic-esque AU of Harlock, I went ahead and wrote some weird AU versions of other Leijiverse characters for it.**

**Enough bad jokes. I apologize for any mistakes and hope you like reading this strange thing.**

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The silence on the deck held for hours. Only the breath-like sounds of the dark matter generator and hum of the engine offered anything to my ears until Mr. Bird flapped his way to my shoulder like a drunk trying to fly. As much as I preferred quiet days to explosions and yelling trying to burst my eardrum, I saw no appeal in sitting at a bridge station. I counted the hours to my relief on one hand while rubbing the alien bird's head with the other. Unless Kei felt like coming back to look at radar early, I had a while to go.

As Mr. Bird warbled his appreciation, a blip cut through the pervasive drone. Then a second blip. A third.

The pinpricks of yellow on the radar were only large enough to fit one-man fighters. When a fourth popped up, I tapped out the command to widen the radar scope. Blips followed each other in rapid succession, as though I'd won the lottery of radar scans. The fighters closed in on us like a swarm of insects, more than I could hope to count. The alarm sounded automatically.

"What are we dealing with, Yama?" Harlock called from his throne.

Good question. "Cosmo fighters," I said, though I didn't sound too sure of myself. "At least one-hundred. Their models appear to line up with Gaia's usual fare, but our scans aren't picking up the mother ship."

I turned back to find curiosity lighting up his eye. He stood, flaring his cape out behind him, and Mr. Bird flew back to his shoulder on cue. "I hope they're planning something, or this is a terrible plan of attack," Harlock said. "Give me the helm." Despite letting me pilot on simple missions, he either didn't trust me on unpredictable ones, or he just enjoyed being in control too much to let me have a go. His eye flicked to me as I hung over the radar station. "You're good with turrets. Go see how many you can take out."

I glanced from the console to him, one brow raised. "We need someone on radar, don't we?"

"Kei will kick you off of her station as soon as she gets here," he said, "and we need you more on a gun."

It felt like he was trying to get rid of me, not that I could read radar that well, and Kei liked to keep things organized her way in a fight. I dashed off the bridge, passing her on the way. "Fighters?" she yelled as she passed. "Really?"

"Yeah!" I called back over my shoulder. A weird tactic, but with so many of them, they would be able to do some damage before we took all of them out. Still, it was nothing the dark matter generator wouldn't be able to fix.

My boots rattled each metal panel under my weight until I grabbed the doorframe to swing into a turret chamber. With the sheer number of them outside, I imagined I wouldn't need to aim. Just shooting could hit something in that swarm.

As I peered through the sights, they arrived just within our firing range, but instead of an uncoordinated mass, they flew in pre-determined patterns. Like an air show, they crossed over and under each other, zig-zagging back and forth in equal time. None of it stayed constant enough to make for an easy target. Curses and questions from the other gunners crackled through the communication lines between us. "Almost feel bad for killing them," one said. "They're putting on such a nice show."

I'd learned to think of the fighters only as hunks of steel, because it still stung to remember the pilots inside. Despite the show, I could still hit them, and so could the Arcadia's main cannons. Just as Harlock said, I counted off each ball of fire caused by my turret. I did miss more than usual, blasts vanishing off into empty space. As though the pilots' brains synced, they each made sudden swerves at the same time, just a hair away from hitting each other.

The bridge tended to keep to itself during battles, so hearing Kei screeching beside my ear made my heart thud in my chest. "Get the one on the port side!" she demanded. I swung my sights around that way in time to watch the sharp nose of a fighter smash into the side of the ship. Curses from the other gunners filled my ears, but I couldn't find a voice to say anything. The Arcadia's side bled waves of black smoke, like the clouds we hid in so often. No pilot could survive a hit like that.

"Is that their plan?" I asked through a bubbling laugh.

"More of them are trying it," Kei gasped. "Get them!"

I blinked. My stupid joke wasn't allowed to be reality. This strategy cost too many lives. Most of Gaia's army only fought because they had food to eat and a place to sleep in return, so no one in their right mind would go on a suicide run like this.

But they would die either way. As human missiles, they had a set path, no more dodging. I searched for those exclusively, but there were so many, coming one right after the other. The ship rattled with the impact of a second fighter, my aim trembling out of place. Tendrils of fire brushed the edges of space, before the automatic system sealed off the damage.

We were still better off. Their numbers dwindled, patterns thinning out. No matter the damage, the dark matter generator would repair it. We only had to finish the fight.

I heard my name, yelled or snapped in varying ways through the speaker, along with a desperate command. "Move!"

There was a chance I could have turned my sights up to destroy the fighter before it hit, but orders were orders. Throwing myself from my seat, I dove into the hall. Before I could stagger out of the line of fire, the crash shook the ship out from under me. Surrounded by empty air, I threw my arms out, clawing for the floor. It found my back instead, and all the air flew from my lungs. The ceiling remained intact above me, though the dull light flickered. As I caught my breath, I sat up to find my door jammed halfway open, a fire blazing inside. It was enough to make me miss the deck.

Once I confirmed my legs still worked, I pulled my communicator from my pocket and started back toward the bridge. "Hey," I greeted, fitting the bug into my ear. "I'm not dead."

"Congratulations," Kei sighed. "You weren't murdered by a remote control fighter."

My steps stuttered. "Remote control?" The adrenaline rush throwing my head for a loop slowed at the information. "You didn't tell us that."

"Well I was too busy trying to keep you alive," she snapped. "But they don't have human pilots. I'm trying to figure out where they're being controlled from. There has to be a ship nearby carrying the people controlling them, but nothing is showing up on radar."

"They're all being controlled by one person." My mouth said it before my brain caught up. The memory of her hands swimming around a projection of the battlefield, the way the ships weaved through each other at each twitch of the tips of her fingers – of course it was her.

"No one can control this many ships at once," Kei said. I couldn't blame her. I didn't believe it until the first time I saw it.

My pace picked up, and I weaved around a hunk of the wall, blasted in from the second fighter. "No, that's why she uses the patterns, so she can keep track of all of them at once. She has to be in one of those fighters, one keeping in the back or in more defensive positions."

"She?" Kei echoed. "But, Yama, I told you already, there are no living signatures coming from those fighters. I scanned them after the first hit."

No, it had to be her. That was why Gaia chose her as their second bet. She could strategize better than any of us. She had to be throwing off the scans in some way.

The collar of my shirt pulled back into my neck, silencing me just as the bug tore from my ear. The click of it turning off was punctuated by the crash of my back hitting the wall. With the pressure from my neck gone, I opened my eyes to find myself in an unlit room. A vent on the door let in enough light to show the outline of a supply closet, along with her standing in front of me. The edges of her form shone from the thin light, and a green light blinked from the silver headband she'd always used to control the ships. Hints of her blue hair lined her shadow. The familiar silver shine of her knife flashed up toward my throat, just like last time we fought.

That round she won, her blade so close to my skin I stopped breathing out of fear. But I remembered well enough to raise my hand in mirror to hers. After that, well, I hadn't thought that far ahead. My only thought was to keep that knife away from my throat, so I jammed my hand onto the blade and pushed it away.

"Better than last time," she said, her tone just as sharp as the knife. My hand throbbed with rushes of endless pain. I could only see the shine of the blade, piercing through the back of my palm. Blood oozed down from the wound in heated trails, and sweat built across my face as I wheezed uneven breaths. "You're still a child," she said, disappointed as always.

"You think you'll get out of this alive, Marina?" I spat between gritting my jaw against the pain.

In the silent space of a moment, I could imagine her blinking as she always did when I said something she considered stupid. "My orders were to assassinate the traitors. Getting out alive was not a requirement. You knew you would become a target, yes? So you shouldn't look so surprised." Her other arm shifted, and I remembered the second knife strapped to her wrist. "No hard feelings, right?"

The close quarters left me with few options, but my body worked on autopilot. Bringing my knee up to my chest, I slammed my foot into her gut. The door smashed open behind her as she stumbled back into the light of the hall, the knife ripping back through my hand. My vision rolled as though the ship took another hit, waves of heat and pain twisting my gut. I hated assassins who fought with knives.

Guns worked better anyway. My bleeding hand shot toward the holster, but Marina's trained eyes flashed to the movement. She tossed the blade, forgoing accuracy for speed. The damn thing seemed to appear in my thigh. I felt no pain until I looked down to find it there.

A distraction, of course – her main method of attack. She lunged forward, grabbing my gun from the holster. Before she stepped back to fire, I pulled myself out of the closet by the doorframe and dove to the side. My leg felt like it was ripping in two as the knife's sting spread, but the shot burned a hole in the back of the closet instead of me. My only advantage now was her lousy aim with guns.

I needed to run. There was no winning a fight with a knife in my leg. As I tried to lunge my way into a run, the pain in my thigh bucked it out from under me. My knee hit the floor once again.

"It should have been me," Marina hissed. I turned to find the gun pointed at my back. "I would have done the job right. Harlock should be dead and gone by now."

"There was no right way to do it!" I ripped the knife from my leg with a choke of pain. Burning heat spread from the wound to the bone and the rest of my thigh. Any more of this, and I would throw up. "Gaia was wrong," I slurred like a drunk. "You don't have to do this." I was just stalling as I tried to blink the world back into focus.

I knew she would shoot regardless, so my last option left me to pivot on the ball of my foot and launch myself at her with my good leg. Through some miracle of my elbow hitting her hand, the gunshot flew toward the wall. The clatter of the gun hitting the floor followed as both her hands clamped down on my wrist.

The first time we practiced hand-to-hand combat, she knocked me on my back with one sweep of her legs. "Prone on your back is the last position an assassin wants to be in," she said.

And now, with all my weight pinning her down, I saw her on her back for the first time. Her knife hovered over her heart as I bared the strength of my arms down on her. They trembled from the strain, just as hers did from trying to hold me back.

"You're still the same," she scolded, the fire of loathing in her blue eyes. "Your heart's not in it. You have more strength than me, but you still won't use it, even now."

"I don't have to kill you," I said. The blood from my hand rolled down the tip of the blade to stain her gray shirt.

As always, her brow furrowed, disappointment clear on her face. "You're too soft for an assassin, but I'm not." The strength vanished from her arms. I had no time to pull back. All the force straining my muscles smashed the blade into her heart. The crack of her sternum shot through the knife and up against my hands. Either I couldn't hear, or the world fell silent. Nothing reached me as I rolled off of her. I could only stare at the sleek handle protruding from her chest.

She reached up and ripped it out with little more than a wince. The squelch of it broke through the silence. "At least I did some damage," she murmured. Her eyes deadened as her words faded. "The others will finish the job."

Whether she died then or just passed out, I didn't know. I had no plans to check. I lay on my side, my arms shaking once again as they held me up enough to see the blood blossoming across her shirt. "What others?" I asked.

I waited for an answer from a corpse. Waited and stared, even as a rush of footsteps reached my ears.

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**I love Marina so much, and I feel bad for her.**

**I mean, having to deal with Yama just seems like the worst.**


	2. 1 Pair

**I don't know if anyone else headcanons that Yama got the same dumb immortality as Harlock during his little angsting expedition on Earth, but my pals and I headcanon that, so that's what's going on here. Also, I got a question on the last chapter asking what the pairing was (maybe they meant where is the pairing)? I should hope this answers that question.**

**So I hope everything is okay and you like it and stuff.**

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Time stopped. At least, it appeared to while we held our breaths. In that instant, no turrets fired. No fingers bashed out commands on consoles. The bridge held complete silence. It wasn't until I blinked that I realized time still moved. It was the fighters outside that had frozen. All at once their engines stopped, leaving them to drift as harmless space debris.

In some ways, it felt like a logical conclusion. Their tight formations fell to pieces a few minutes before. They instead meandered in uneven groups, so easy to pick off we had their hundred down to a dozen. And now, the stragglers just…stopped.

"Okay," Kei said at length, eyes flashing from one dead fighter to the next. As the first sound from the silence, her voice acted like a starting gun. One fighter erupted in a fiery blaze, the nearest to it following its course of self-destruction. They set off a chain reaction, each explosion silent in the void of space, but all as bright and brilliant as a fireworks display.

"Okay," Kei said again, her voice dripping with irritation.

I could relate. "How's the damage?" I asked.

Yattaran hissed as he ran his hand against his jaw. "Even with the dark matter generator, we won't be able to warp for a few days at least. Cheap as that attack was, trying to warp with those holes in our hull will tear us apart."

My glove strained against my grip on the wheel, but I kept my face even. "Every able man should assist with repairs. For now we will set cruising speed. Activate the dark matter generator so we can begin repairs."

This plan of Gaia's, at least what I could make of it, made no sense. Even with our warp ability gone for a few days, a follow-up attack would not be enough to take down the Arcadia. Gaia would be stuck in an endless cycle of trying to send out ships fast enough to beat the speed of our repairs. Besides, they tried a similar tactic thirty years ago. Or was it forty? Either way, it didn't work, and that attack at least had the decency to not waste a hundred cosmo fighters.

While the men grumbled about having to assist with repairs and I considered how spoiled they were, Kei snapped at Yama through her headset. "Hey! Yama! You answer me right now, you asshole." I turned to find her brow pinched as she gnawed her lip. She toed the line of worry beneath her mask of irritation. "If you're just hiding so you don't have to help with repairs, I will track you down," she hissed.

That didn't sound like Yama, but not answering wasn't like Yama either. Maybe I needed to be worried, but I wasn't sure how we could lose Yama in the halls of the ship.

As the door slid open behind us, Kei spun with fire in her eyes. "There you-" The fury vanished in a blink. I turned to find one of the other gunners standing in the doorframe instead. Kei's anger must have startled him, as he stared wide-eyed our way.

"Yes?" I prompted when it was clear no one would speak otherwise.

"Uh." The gunner scratched at the back of his neck. I had a feeling I wouldn't like this report. "So there's a dead woman in the main hall. We figure she must have snuck in on one of those fighters that hit us. Yama was there too, just bleeding all over the place, but we're moving him to the infirmary."

Before the gunner finished, I started his way. "How is he?" I asked as he stepped back to make way for me.

"He'll make it just fine. Lost a lot of blood, so he was a little delirious when we found him. Took him a minute to realize we weren't the enemy. Looked like a hell of a fight."

Yama wasn't the type to drag out a fight. He still cringed every time he had to shoot someone with anything but a turret, so finding the woman dead from a stab wound caught me off guard. I wondered if that had more to do with Yama being delirious than the blood loss. Still, smears and droplets of it stained the floor, while the woman's shirt shone wet around the fatal stab wound, the only scratch on her.

"Looks like she was in a protective pod in the first fighter that hit us," one of the men explained as I stepped closer to her. A few gunners and engineers lingered around the scene out of morbid curiosity. "That band around her head must have been what controlled 'em all, unless there's more Gaia soldiers hiding around here."

"No," I realized. "The self-destruct signal must have been linked to her brain waves. Yama said the fighters were all controlled by one person. Have we scanned for her identity?"

"Of course." The man shrugged. "But it looks like Gaia wiped any information on her. This was definitely made to be a one-way mission."

"But Yama knew her," I said. "We can ask him."

"Good luck with that," another man snorted. "As soon as we dropped him off in the infirmary, the doctor kicked us all out and wouldn't let us ask any more questions. You know how he gets when he has a patient. Besides, I think the kid is knocked on his ass with one of those horse tranquilizers the doc uses."

"Well, we need to take care of the body anyway," I said, hiding a sigh.

I always found the clean-up worse than the killing itself, and this time had the added aspect of Yama's blood all across the hall. By the time I poked my head into the infirmary, the doctor was back to drowning himself in sake.

"Kid's asleep," he said before I could ask.

"How were his wounds?"

"Deep. Ugly. Must have hurt like hell, but he'll recover. If it weren't for the dark matter infecting him, there would be some permanent damage to his hand. You bastards, exposing yourself to all that dark matter." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Anyway, he's in one of the beds if you want to go _wait_ for him to wake up."

I nodded to assure him I wouldn't try to wake Yama. He didn't need to remind me. I learned my lesson after the last time he hit me with a tranquilizer for bothering a patient.

In the next room, Yama slept on his side, a puddle of drool forming on his pillow. Though he didn't usually snore, his breath rattled like a chainsaw. He held his right hand close to his chest, wrapped in restrictive bandages. Any other damage was hidden under one of the paper-thin infirmary blankets. I pulled up a chair and waited.

A snort alerted me to Yama's consciousness not fifteen minutes later. "I'm cold," he slurred like a drunk as he peeled his eyes open. Raising his head, he smeared the drool across his cheek with the back of his bandaged hand. "S'cold," he repeated. If his bare shoulders were any indication, he wasn't wearing much, if anything, under that blanket. Surgery meant bare skin against a metal slab as icy as death, so of course he was cold.

Standing from my chair, I walked to the cabinet for another blanket. "Are you conscious enough to explain what happened and who that woman was?" I asked. He answered with a noncommittal hum. Whatever drug the doctor gave him was still coursing through his system. Every attempt to rub his eye missed the mark, his hand lolling all over his face instead.

"How are you feeling?" I asked in an attempt to ease him into reality.

"Like I got stabbed," he huffed. Even when I placed the second blanket over him, he pouted like a spoiled child. "Cold."

"You'll warm up in a bit. Can you tell me who that woman was?"

His eye wandered from me to the blanket then back again. With that same pout, he reached unsteady arms up toward me. "Come here," he said.

"We're in the infirmary, Yama." No one else was around for the moment, but I didn't want Yama drooling on me when someone did come in. "Just tell me what you know, and then you can get back to sleep."

This only made him huff through his nose like an angry bull. He grabbed at my shirt, tugging. "I'll tell you if you come here."

I was left with no choice. At least I did learn that he was, in-fact, not wearing anything. I guessed the wound on his leg bled through his boxers, and the doctor just didn't feel like trying to roll him into a gown.

Yama curled up at my side, using my chest as his pillow. The two of us fit on the bed with no room to spare, but he looked content with the cramped quarters. "Now," I said once the blankets were all settled back in place. "What can you tell me?"

"About what?" he asked as his eye slid closed.

"The woman who tried to kill you."

"Oh." He took a deep, slow breath. "Her name's Marina."

It was clear to see I was losing him. He would be out any second now, and trying to shake him awake wouldn't divert that for long. It also had the chance of earning me a tranquilizer. "Marina…?" I prompted.

"Oki," he murmured. "Marina Oki, rank two."

Once his breathing evened out, I slipped away and eased him down to keep from disturbing his sleep. His snore started up again as soon as his head hit the pillow. It would be a while before I could get any information from him, so I decided to kill some time, ignoring the doctor snickering at my back as I walked out.

A quick browse of the ship showed repairs coming along slowly but surely. Kei barked orders at anyone who tried to slack off, while our head mechanic threw wrenches at anyone who complained. I stayed out of their way.

The computer room was a few degrees warmer than usual as my friend whirred in anger. He did this every time an intruder managed to sneak in without him noticing, not that it happened often. I reminded him even he couldn't keep an eye on everything, especially during a battle, but the computer lights still buzzed in hues of red.

"Are you just upset about Yama?" I asked, my brows raised. Tochiro seemed to like Yama. Really, he liked every crewman, but he'd liked our traitor from the beginning. And if Tochiro liked someone, they had to have some merit to them, and they were worth saving from the bottom of a deadly canyon, even if I didn't believe it at first.

"He's fine," I said with a slight wave of my hand. "No need to overheat the ship. He's so out of it right now he can't feel any pain anyway."

The heat eased just enough to stop my clothes from sticking to my skin, but the lights still buzzed.

"I know I should have sent someone to check on him sooner," I sighed. "But our hands were full. Even Kei didn't realize something had gone wrong. He just stopped responding. He didn't ask for help."

I folded my arms as he scolded me again. Sometimes he acted more like a lecturing mom than a friend.

"I'll do better," I said. "I need to go check on him anyway."

It was an excuse to get away, but one that required me to return to the infirmary. At some point Yama had stopped snoring, but he gave a growl like a lazy dog as I neared his bed. "Awake?" I asked.

His eye opened halfway to glare at the ceiling. "Unfortunately," he grumbled. "Your spurs are loud." A slur still laced his syllables together, but he appeared more aware than before. When his gaze rolled to me, it focused in without wandering to the walls or floor.

"Feel like talking to me this time?" I asked as I returned to my chair.

His brows pinched. "This time?"

"You don't remember the first time you woke up?"

"No."

He didn't sound as though he wanted to be reminded, and I didn't feel like talking about that anyway, so I decided to move onto the matter at hand. "Who was that woman?" I felt like I'd asked the question a dozen times.

He heaved a sigh, running his good hand across his face. "Right-right. That was Marina Oki." He appeared to be cringing under the weight of his hand. "I don't know where to start with this. She was- uh…" He dragged his fingers down his cheek with another growl. "So you know I wasn't the best assassin."

I nodded. "Obviously." I was still very much alive.

"No," he hissed. "I mean, I wasn't the best of the bunch. I was the last pick. I barely made it to the team to begin with."

"Team?" I echoed. He made it sound like something for a sport.

"Not a team, exactly, but Gaia held trials for the assassins without telling us what it was or what job we'd be doing. Obviously, when planning a mission with a rat, you want as few people as possible to know. They ended up with seven of us, and we all trained against each other until they had us ordered from one to seven." He held his hands out like scales, gesturing to each degree. "One being the most likely to remain undercover and kill you, seven being the least. You really didn't know this?"

"No," I said. "I just knew you were an assassin the moment you showed up. It was obvious."

His hands dropped to his sides, and he stared at his lap with a tinge of pink warming his cheeks. "Just obvious to you," he muttered. "Anyway, I was rank seven. Marina was rank two. I trained with her, and she always beat me. Her assassination skills would have put her at one, but they factored in how well we would fit in as pirates too. She wasn't all that good at pretending to be a pirate, so she ended up on the planet Gaia calculated as the second most likely for you to stop on."

I blinked. "And you ended up on the seventh?"

With another soft sigh, he tugged at his bangs. "They didn't know where you might stop to get new crewmen. They only had a handful of guesses, and out of all of them, you picked the one they thought you wouldn't. That's why I figured you knew about the whole operation."

"It just happened to be the nearest inhabited planet without a military force," I said with a shrug.

"Of course." An invisible laugh left him as he shook his head. "I don't know why I expected anything different."

He started to tug at his bangs again, so I reached up to pet his hair down against the cowlicks. "So they sent Marina in as another attempt to kill me?" I asked as his hand fluttered away.

"They probably sent her because of that trick she could do with the fighters. She said her assignment was to kill the traitors. I wanted to take her in alive." His voice faded to a whisper. "I tried to, but…"

"An assassin should die rather than fail," I said.

"Victory," he murmured, leaning into my touch. "If not victory, then death." His hands trembled in his lap, and his eye shut tight against whatever thoughts assaulted him.

"You did what you had to," I said. "If she hadn't died, she would have killed you, and then I would have killed her anyway." I couldn't stop my voice from darkening. My chest tightened at the mere thought.

Despite his smile, he sighed again. "Give her more credit. I won on pure luck."

By the next day, any discomfort he felt was hidden or buried away. He sat at his position on the bridge with a cane leaning against his bad leg. The doctor didn't want him to move, but he soaked up more dark matter when near the generator. It continued to run as the holes in the hull mended, poisoning Yama's bones just as it healed him. He was either very lucky or unlucky his body adapted to it, instead of outright dying from full exposure like most. Now he was stuck like me, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Captain," Kei said, breaking the ease of the bridge. "There's a fighter headed our way."

A slew of different expressions turned toward her, none of which were pleased. "Just one?" Yama asked.

"Looks like it. Gaia class. Should we just go ahead and get rid of it?"

Other than Yama, the men grumbled in agreement with the idea. "No," I said over them. "Unless it gets too close, just leave it be."

Kei muttered something about how I was no fun as Yama breathed a sigh of relief. For another minute, silence held over all of us. Then Kei's console gave a beep.

"It wants to open a channel to us," she said, almost as a question.

I didn't see why not. "Go ahead," I said with a shrug.

The display on the overhead changed to show the cockpit of the lone fighter. Yama spat a startled curse, and I almost did the same. The only thing that stopped me was the pilot's blood-red eyes. Sharp lashes hung low over them as a smile tugged at her lips. Waves of hair the color of red clay fell around her and out of frame. But so much of her, from the shape of her face to the way she sat, was all so familiar.

"What are you doing here, Bainas?" Yama demanded. His voice wavered as he spoke again. "If you came to get the body, we already sent it out in a coffin."

Bainas chuckled. "No. I wouldn't use a fighter with so little fuel storage just to get a body. But if you feel like refilling this piece of junk, I would appreciate it." She leaned in, hands resting on her crossed knee. "I actually came here to duel."

Yama looked like he'd taken a blow to the head. "So when Marina said 'the others,' she was talking about the other assassins?" he asked in a daze. "Gaia is sending all the assassins here?"

Bainas shook her head. "Not all the assassins, Yama. Give me some credit. I'll be the last one. Like I said, Harlock," she turned to me, "I'm here to challenge you to a duel of swords. No tricks, no games, just a fight to the death - the good old-fashioned kind."

Her gaze never wavered as she stared me down. I stared right back, while the crew denied the challenge without waiting for my decision. Luckily, I didn't take orders from them.

"Alright," I said. "I accept your challenge."

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**Has anyone actually watched Ozma? I love Bainas. She is so precious.**


	3. 2 Pair

**I don't have much of a comment for this chapter, but for all three of you reading this, I hope you're enjoying it alright. Sorry if there are any mistakes.**

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Harlock talked to his assassin like they planned to set up a game of cards. "We'll open the hangar for you," he said. "That would be the best place for the duel as well. It's the most spacious area on the ship."

Along with everyone else on the bridge, I could only stare at him. There was no hint of concern on him, only a sharpened interest in his eye. Bainas agreed to the terms, and Harlock gave the order to open the hangar with a wave of his hand.

As soon as Bainas' feed went down, Kei found her voice again. "This is a trap."

Everyone around her agreed. "It's not worth the risk, Captain," one said.

"Her fighter could have a bomb on it," followed another.

Harlock's eye rolled to me. "You know her, Yama. Would she do anything like that?"

He had me trapped there. I wanted to tell him she would, that this was a trap that would kill us all if he let it go through. But my track record with sneaking lies past Harlock wasn't the best. "No," I confessed, to the glares of my crewmates. "Gaia knows you won't turn down a duel, so it made sense for an equally hardheaded assassin to be part of the team. That way, even if worst came to worst, you would most likely fight her on even terms. Bainas just likes sword fights. She only agreed to the assassin mission in the first place because she wanted to duel you."

She would go on and on about it during training breaks. "He's had one-hundred years of practice, you know," she would say. "So imagine how shocked he'd be to get beaten by a woman a fourth his age."

"More like a sixth," the commander would correct every time, though I don't think she ever paid attention to him.

"He's had no problem wiping us out for decades," she'd continue. "But I'll give him a real fight. He won't have it so easy when we cross blades."

At my answer, the corner of Harlock's lips tugged into a smile. I felt the need to hit some sense into him. Bastard was excited about this. "So open the hangar door then," he said, standing. "It's rude to leave her waiting."

After Kei tapped the command to open it, every one of us stood to follow him. He scanned the room in disapproval. "No," he said. "This isn't going to work. No spectators."

Kei also looked ready to send a good punch his way. "So what happens if you take a bad hit and can't drag yourself to the infirmary?" she demanded. "Are we just supposed to leave you down there to bleed out?"

He didn't look concerned with the idea. "If I were to lose, I know one of you might act out of a desire for revenge, and I will not allow my duel to be tampered with in such a way. If I am to be taken to the infirmary for injuries should I win, my opponent must be given the same treatment. Can any of you really promise me such a thing?"

I expected all of them to rebut that they could certainly do that, but they all averted their gazes and tightened their lips. Kei's hands trembled at her sides in fists. I wondered how much longer it would be before she really did punch Harlock. Her chin jerked up with a sudden realization. "Yama could do it!" she said. "He was friends with that woman. He would take her to the infirmary!"

"Friends" with Bainas was a bit of a stretch, but Kei's signal sent a dozen pleading eyes my way. I had no choice. For all Harlock's strength and immortality, the crew was genuinely afraid something would go wrong, and maybe something would. Gaia wouldn't send just any lone fighter for Harlock to pick off without an issue. I'd seen Bainas fight, and she wasn't just any swordsman. If anyone had a chance at killing Harlock in a duel, she did.

"I could do it," I said, holding back a sigh.

Harlock raised a brow, staring me down for any signs of cracking. I didn't bother to glare in return, but I didn't take my eye off his. "If you two are stupid enough to fight to the death, someone intelligent needs to be there to moderate," I added.

That was good enough for him. With a nod, he turned for the door and allowed me to limp along after him. "Take care of the ship," he called as we stepped onto the lift. Glancing back, I found everyone's expression hardened. Then the doors closed, and we started down.

"What can you tell me about this one?" Harlock asked, his arms folded across his chest.

"Not much." During training there was little discussion of our lives beyond the mission. Everyone was certain whoever the Arcadia picked up would die, so most of us kept to ourselves. "Because she was prideful and a bit of a ditz, she was ranked sixth out of the seven of us, but she was considered the third best swordsman in Gaia's military."

"Third best?" Harlock repeated with a curious hum. That glint of excitement reappeared in his eye. "This should be an interesting fight then."

The doors to the lift opened, and he walked off with those long, brisk strides of his. I struggled to keep up with the cane slowing me down. "I think you should take this more seriously," I said from a few paces behind.

"I take every duel seriously. It would be a disrespect to my opponents not to. That doesn't mean I can't enjoy the idea of a challenge."

Before I could tell him he was too excited to be considered serious, he looked back over his shoulder. His pace slowed, allowing me to catch up. Once I was back at his side, he spoke with a gentleness I rarely heard from him. "You don't want me to kill her, do you?"

For a dozen paces, the only sounds were the ring of his spurs and the tapping of my cane. "Why would I want either of you to die?" I asked. "This doesn't make any sense. Gaia is just throwing these people's lives away."

"Unless she wins," he said. "In that case, you'll take over for me."

I didn't want to consider that option. He was immortal, but he still bled when cut. A fatal wound would kill him just as anyone else. "But you won't lose," I breathed more than said. I wasn't ready to take his name yet. I was still just Yama, and he couldn't die.

"You shouldn't assume the outcome of a duel beforehand. It's disrespectful to both of us."

When we reached the door to the hangar, he pushed it open without hesitation. Bainas sat on the metal floor beside her parked fighter, cards spread out in front of her. She didn't look up from them, even as we neared enough to see what they were.

"Whose fortune are you reading?" he asked. They looked like the same tarot cards she used during training when we were on breaks. We never knew whose fortune she was reading then, until she'd glance from the cards to one of us, usually frowning at whatever imminent doom was headed our way.

"Don't want to spoil things for you, Harlock," she said. When she flipped the last card, a detailed illustration of death stared back at us. Harlock looked disturbed, but not by the card. His eye focused on her instead, his brow furrowed like when her video feed first came through on the bridge. He looked like he was trying to place a face.

Bainas hopped to her feet and stretched her arms out above her head. "Alright, are you ready, Captain?" She opened her eyes to find me there. Judging by her stare, she hadn't realized I'd tagged along. "Are you acting as referee?"

"Yama is the closest to a neutral party we have on the ship," Harlock explained. "Should the winner need any medical assistance, he'll take them to the infirmary."

Bainas nodded. "He's good at small errands. Used to bring us our coffee every morning."

"I was part of the team, not your errand boy," I huffed. "I was just being polite."

"Come on, we all knew you were just there because of nepotism. But cheer up." She smacked her hand down against my shoulder in some attempt at patting. "You certainly weren't our least favorite of the group."

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to thank her or be offended. Harlock cut in before I could decide. "I'm ready if you would like to move to a more open area," he said.

They both looked calm, like this was just a sparring match between friends. As they moved to an empty space, they walked side by side, wrists resting on the handle of their sabers. One of them would be dead in a few minutes, and while they didn't seem concerned, I felt sick. My legs were cold and hollow, like they might give out any moment. My gut churned with fear, because Harlock could die. There was a chance he could wind up dead and bleeding on the floor, and I could only stand on the side and hope otherwise. My mouth was so dry I hoped they didn't need me to say go.

They separated themselves a few paces and stood facing each other. Bainas' saber came up parallel to her body in some form of salute. Harlock mirrored the move before they both stepped back into a fighting stance.

Silence held the air like they'd both frozen in that moment. I was about to ask if they did need some starting signal from me, when they each released a breath. In the span of a blink, they launched toward each other. Bainas went in for the kill with her first stoke, a jab Harlock sidestepped as though this was some sort of practiced dance.

He answered with a sweeping upward strike that she dodged by bending over backward. Her foot kicked up to knock his saber away, though he held firm to the handle as she completed her flip and returned upright. That look found Harlock's eye again, the look of a person thrilled with a challenge. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone try such a risky move before," he said, his tone not quite hiding praise.

"If I was anyone, this wouldn't be any fun," Bainas retorted with a more obvious smirk.

They needed their heads knocked together, so they could remember this was a fight to the death.

Again, Bainas stepped in to kill, aiming for his core. She wanted to have fun with this, but she wanted him dead too. She didn't play around when it came to finishing a fight. Harlock blocked with his saber, knocking hers off its mark as if in retaliation for her attempt before.

I wondered if that was considered a parry. In all the time I'd trained with the swordsmen assassins, I never learned a thing about swordplay. I did know they were good at it. I didn't need to see Bainas clashing sabers with Harlock like each predicted every move the other would make to know the assassins I'd trained against were formidable. Their sessions against each other were so violent I swore sparks flew in waves, spitting their hatred for each other without the need for words.

But Harlock and Bainas played off each other in a duel of respect. It was quick, so quick my eye barely kept up, but the blocks and blows didn't have the force of anger behind them. I wondered why it couldn't just end like the other matches – the tip or edge of a saber a breath away from an exposed neck or chest. No, this had to be the one to end in blood.

At some point – I didn't see when – the first blood of the match spilled. Harlock sported a gash across his forearm, the type he would call nick despite the blood pouring down the leather sleeve. Bainas sported a similar one on her thigh, darkening the purple material of her leggings. If either was in pain, they didn't telegraph it in any way.

Like an odd song, the clash of swords trilled to a quicker tempo. My eye struggled to keep up. A slash from Harlock was countered by a parry from Bainas. Another jab from Bainas, and Harlock flicked his saber around hers, twirling it off course.

A nick to Harlock's jaw.

A slash to Bainas' arm.

A slice across Harlock's shoulder.

A cut across Bainas' waist.

The wounds all seemed to appear without source. None of it slowed them down. My eyes burned from the strain of staying open. Every blink gambled with missing the end. But when it came, my eyes were so wide, I couldn't have closed them if I wanted to.

I wanted to more than anything.

Maybe Harlock wanted to end it, but that seemed unlike him. It looked like they both risked everything for a final blow, and they both won and lost their bet. Bainas' saber impaled Harlock through his gut at an upward angle. It didn't come out through the other side, but only because of the armor at his back. His blood trailed down her saber until it dripped from the guard.

If there was a worse off between them, though, it was Bainas. He'd pierced just below her collarbone at a downward angle. The middle of the blade fit into her chest while the end stuck out from her back. Her blood followed its trail too, through her hair and down toward the tip.

As my heart raced in my throat, I wondered who to take to the infirmary. My mind lagged too much to comprehend anything else, but my legs propelled me toward them.

Harlock eased his saber out as smoothly as he always drew it from its holster. He didn't want to cause her further pain, though she choked on her agony, blood spilling from her lips. Her hand shook as she tried to do the same for him. "Damn," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes as she found she didn't have the strength to remove her saber.

In one swift motion that made me feel the heated chill of nausea, Harlock ripped the blade out himself. His breath hitched, face twisted in the pain he always tried to hide.

Bainas' saber clattered to the ground as he let go of it. She would have followed had Harlock not jumped forward to wrap his arm around her shoulders. Fat droplets of his blood splashed to the floor, while hers welled out across her chest. "That was the best fight I've had in decades," Harlock said. Pain tore his words like claws through paper, but his mouth twitched into a smile.

Bainas' answer bubbled with the blood on her lips "I was supposed to win." Her eyes dulled. "But next time, I'll win next time."

Harlock's smile vanished to raw pain as she fell limp. He would have lowered her to the floor if I hadn't rushed forward to do it for him. With a stomach wound like that, death could take him too within a few minutes. I threw his arm over my shoulder just before his legs stopped working. The strain of keeping us from toppling over ate at my leg wound, but there was no way for me to use the cane now.

"Don't die," I hissed. "We're going to the infirmary."

Though his legs appeared to be moving, I felt like I was dragging him. As long as we got through that door, I knew there would be someone waiting for us, so if he just survived until then.

"I asked you if you didn't want me to kill her," he said. His head hung, his voice so low I struggled to understand. "But I didn't want to kill her either."

"Stop talking," I snapped. "Just stay alive."

He didn't listen to my orders. He never did. "She fought just like her too," he murmured. "Emeraldas.

* * *

**What worries me is that there are people reading this who may not know who Emeraldas is. It upsets me so much. Please go look up my wife if you don't know who she is. You are missing out. **


	4. Three of a Kind

**I feel like I should offer some sort of warning for this chapter. Um, disclaimer: My taste in humor is terrible, and my taste in moderately canon-breaking headcanons is even worse. Further disclaimer: drugged Harlock. That's all I can offer. Carry on.**

* * *

I wished I could stop breathing. Not because I wanted to die, but because the rise and fall of my stomach with each breath seemed to rip at my skin. From the moment I regained consciousness, the prickling, restrictive pain that came with stitches sparked with each breath.

I struggled with consciousness the first few rounds, rousing from pain only to wonder at its source. I faded out each time before I could return to my senses. Whatever drugs I was on made me heavy and so exhausted I swore I felt tired even while sleeping. Until the pain outweighed the need to rest, I couldn't keep my eye open for more than a few seconds.

I could only guess the number of attempts before I grabbed hold of the waking world, refusing to let it slip through my fingers again. The memories returned in an instant. I could still feel the saber twisting in my gut, the way my body seemed to hang there on it. My current pain was nothing compared to that, though it was still unpleasant.

Yama was there when my eye focused. He slept in the same chair I'd placed at his side however many days before. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed.

Yama's chin dipped to his chest, his arms crossed. Frays of his hair poked up and out in all directions. The harsh breaths through his nose neared snores. He too looked exhausted in his sleep.

The mere act of reaching out threatened to tear at my stitches, but I latched my hand onto his shoulder nonetheless. His chin jerked up as a slur of incoherent words left him.

"Yama," I greeted in a voice too dry and rough to be my own. "Water."

He blinked a few times, eye focused on nothing. "Hm, sure," he said, standing. "Water." He shuffled over to the sink and filled up a glass for me. I considered requesting wine too, but I doubted he would be as willing of an errand boy for me as he was for the other assassins.

He still didn't look awake when he returned. After raising the bed into as much of a sitting position as my stomach would allow, he lifted the glass over my head. I had no means of escape as he dumped it over, icy water pouring through my hair and down the back of my neck. "Why?" I growled, my shoulders taut with irritation.

Instead of answering, Yama returned to the sink and refilled the glass. As he walked back, I finally noticed the anger situated beneath his exhaustion. Eyes half-narrowed, he clutched the glass tight enough to splotch his knuckles white and red. This time he did have the courtesy to shove the glass under my nose instead. After I took it, he dropped into his chair, arms and legs crossed. "Never again," he said. The tone of his command rivaled one of mine. There was no uncertainty. This order would be carried out without question. The only problem was I didn't know what he meant.

I cocked a brow as I sipped the water. Yama's glare sharpened. "Don't you ever pull something like that again. You are not allowed to die."

"That's not something you or I can necessarily control," I murmured over the rim of my glass. "I told you I could lose."

"No," Yama said. He kept his eye on the floor. "You won't die. I won't lose you."

Perhaps this wasn't the time to be making jokes, but I could blame this one on the drugs. "Well I can't live forever, Yama. I'm not immortal."

I might as well have offended him to the core with the look he threw me. For better or worse, he didn't acknowledge it otherwise. "If any more assassins show up and ask for a duel, I'll be the one to face them," he said. "They're my responsibility. They're here because of me."

Somewhere along the line his reasoning had derailed. "I believe they're here to kill me," I corrected. "That would make them my responsibility."

"If I'd killed you in the first place, we wouldn't have had to worry about them," he huffed. "And they're my…friends." He chewed on the word as though working out the meaning. "I should be the one to take care of them."

With my voice back, I set the glass aside, out of Yama's reach in case I offended him again. "But if they are your friends, you would be hesitant to harm them," I said. "That makes you vulnerable. Out of the two of us, my odds are better."

I realized the flaw in my statement as he poked my stitches. My eye twitched despite all attempts to hide the pain. "You're the one with a hole running all the way through you," Yama said. "Even if you are better equipped to kill them, my wounds are mostly healed. It's possible another could show up within the next few days, and I will face them."

"The next few days?" I parroted, holding a hand over my wound just in case he tried anything else. "Gaia sent the second right after the first. Why would they wait that long to send the third?" It was possible I'd already slept through a few days, and waiting around a week to send in their next attacker allowed us too much time to recuperate. The ship's repairs would be long done by then.

But Yama's eye darted away from mine. "We warped while you were asleep. Just once. Just to throw them off our location."

I showed no anger or disapproval on my face. I didn't need to. Yama understood already that he'd done something wrong. He cringed as I stared him down. "Who approved this?" I asked.

"We put it to a vote of the bridge crew and engineers. It was unanimous."

"How is the Arcadia?"

"We did a rush patch job to hold things together." He breathed a sigh through his nose. "It didn't, but no one was injured. The dark matter generator is running again to fix the damage. Bulkheads are sealing the worst area at the moment."

"You punched a hole in my ship," I said.

He rubbed his hand across his forehead as though fighting back a headache. "Yes, that's true, but Gaia knew our location. If we remained there, they could have sent a collection of their best ships after us. And with you unconscious-"

"You were in charge," I cut in.

"You say that like the crew would listen to me without you around. You know they still don't trust me completely."

That was almost a valid excuse, but I didn't accept excuses. "If you are making smart decisions and leading them well, they will follow. You can't simply skirt your duties because you're unsure of yourself."

The exhaustion returned to his face, weighting his eye and his shoulders. "I know," he said. "I still don't think we made a bad decision. At the very least, we're all still alive for the moment." A weak smile cracked onto his face as he turned to face me. "I liked you better when you were high as a kite. You were much nicer then."

I froze. He had to be joking. Yama was a terrible liar, but none of his usual ticks showed through here. "This is the first time I've woken up," I said.

A silent laugh escaped him. "We didn't know if you were going to make it until you woke up. I couldn't make sense of what you were saying the first time, because you'd only speak in German. The second time you just told a lot of stories."

"About what?" Whatever they were, they were better off untold.

"You talked about Emeraldas mostly. About how she used to kick your ass and you were the third wheel for her and Tochiro." Yes, these things were definitely better left untold. "You kept going on about how Bainas was her reincarnation, and you killed her reincarnation. You were very upset about that."

It took all my willpower to avoid covering my face with my hand. "What happened to Bainas?" I asked to divert the topic.

All amusement faded from his face. "We sent her out in a coffin before we warped and scrapped her ship for parts. The doctor wanted to do an autopsy to check what Gaia might have planted on her, but I limited him to a scan instead. It looks like she had the same implant as me." He reached up and tapped at his eye patch.

I was more interested in his diversion of the doctor. Only allowing a scan was such an odd thing for Yama to do. It was respectful, certainly, but innocent at the same time. I couldn't imagine anyone but Yama requesting such an action.

I wondered how much he'd slept and how long he'd stayed at my side while I was unconscious. Despite everything he faced, he was the most naïve person I'd known in some time. For the moment his usual boundless energy was replaced by exhaustion and frailty. Beneath the sadness marring his eye was fear, fear of whichever assassin had to die next. In that moment, I hoped his warp did give me enough time to heal because I wanted to face them instead of him.

"There are four left?" I asked.

He nodded. His eye closed to hide the pain that seeped into it.

"You were close to them?"

"Some of them," he breathed. "It's not important. No matter how close we were, I don't want to see them dead." Then he looked to me as though it hurt him, as though he could feel my wounds. "But I can't see you dead. I just can't Harlock."

He stood. His trembling hand came to rest against my cheek. Whatever his intent in that moment, it vanished as he sobbed a laugh. His hands returned to him to cover his face as he attempted to hold it back. But snorts and snickers morphed into wheezing laughter no matter his attempts. "I'm sorry I poured water on you," he gasped between his barking. "You're so wet. Oh my God. I will get you a towel."

I wasn't sure how else to respond, so I waited until he retrieved the towel. Instead of handing it to me, he dropped it on my head and ruffled my hair dry. Tufts of it flared out in all directions by the time he was done, so I patted it back down. He didn't need another thing to laugh at me about.

"It's about time I changed your bandages too," he sighed, a smile lingering on his face.

"Why you and not the doctor?" I asked as he went to grab them from the cabinet.

"If you think getting water dumped on you is bad, you don't want to see what the doctor will do once he finds out you're coherent. He was not happy when he found out you were run through. Now do your best to sit up."

Sitting up meant putting weight on the wound, and I had to grit my teeth to ease the nausea rising in my throat. Sweat broke out across my face within seconds as my insides twisted and writhed in protest.

"But don't kill yourself," Yama said as he returned. He sat beside me on the bed and put his arm around my shoulders to pull my weight against him.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked as he cut through the old bandages. If the next challenger showed up while I was stuck in this bed, I would need something to change into.

"Your shirt is gone," Yama said. "Not much we could do for that, but everything else is clean."

The longer I stayed against him, the closer I pressed, until my cheek rested against his shoulder. My nose brushed his neck, and with each breath I took in his scent – subtle, human, soft, and with just a hint of flowers from the storage room he'd formed into a greenhouse.

Usually when we were this close, he smelled of sweat, sex, and whatever alcohol led us to that point. How many one night stands could we have before they stopped being one-night stands?

His hands worked in a smooth rhythm, wrapping around my abdomen to cover the fresh, ugly scar settled among those that had healed long before. He wasn't firm enough with it. The wrap could have done to be tighter, but I couldn't mind the gentleness.

Maybe it was the occasional brush of his fingers on my bare skin or his smell or just those damn drugs, but I wanted him. Like when alcohol tinted our worlds with warm hues, I found myself drunk off being close to him. Of course, the thing that brought me here was the thing keeping me from my desires. I nudged my face closer to his neck, intoxicated by him. His hands hesitated for an instant, but he continued on without a word until he was finished. "Harlock," he murmured then. "What are we?"

I didn't know. I was too tired to know. Sleep was returning to claim me. "We're pirates," I said. It was all I could think up as an answer.

"No," he sighed, though I could hear a smile in his voice. "I mean what are we to each other?"

Still, I didn't know the answer. Perhaps we were master and protégée or rivals. In some strange way, we may have been friends. I couldn't say what we were to each other for sure, but some part of my mind told me in a whisper that he was mine.

My protégée. My rival. My traitor. Mine.

But with no clear answer for him, I avoided answering altogether. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I hate to see you hurt," he said. "And I can't stand the thought of seeing you dead." He was more honest than me. One of the most honest people I'd ever met – an assassin and spy. It was no wonder he'd failed those tasks.

My arms drifted up on some strange whim of their own. They slipped around his small form, and I held him. I had no reason for it, only more maybes and excuses. "I have no plans to die just yet," I said. "But you can't die either, so whatever assassin comes, you must beat them. I don't care who they are." I raised my head and stared into his eye. "You have to win because I want you alive."

We were little more than an inch apart, so it didn't take much to lean forward the rest of the way and kiss him. It was simple, a few seconds of being close to him. In some ways, that was enough, and yet I wanted more. When I pulled back, I felt so tired I thought I might fall asleep right there. Then I saw his face, the soft dusting of a blush across his cheeks and the aversion of his eye.

My hands slipped up to hold his face, to pull his attention back to me. I wanted his focus on me, only on me. As soon as he looked my way, I kissed him again. I kissed him until his lips parted and I could taste the wet heat of his tongue. I felt him stifle a moan with a whimper and brushed my thumbs against his cheeks, feeling the softness of his skin along with the smooth, raised scar tissue. One of his hands tangled in my hair, pushing me closer.

What were we? Even then I didn't know.

Nothing. Something. Everything.

Maybe.

But no matter what we were, he was mine.

* * *

I woke to the warning alarm screaming overhead. Kei's voice cut through before it finished. "We've got another fighter approaching," she said. "It will probably be like the last one, but be prepared for anything."

By "prepared for anything," I assumed she meant "be prepared for something to blow up."

Despite the doctor's orders, I rolled out of bed and to my feet. He could yell at me later. I wasn't dead yet. I needed to greet my guest.

The clothes Yama left for me were from so far back in my closet I'd forgotten I owned them. I hadn't worn a button-up shirt in years, but Yama refused to bring me any of my usual clothes, worried the tight, harsh materials might aggravate my wound. Once dressed, I did look as though I was about to formally greet a guest. I would replace the outfit as soon as possible.

Men threw questioning glances my way as strode through the hall. Ignoring them, I kept my eye ahead and fought through any signs of a limp. I wasn't sure my insides weren't ripping apart, but I wasn't bleeding yet. Gritting my teeth, I walked on with my shoulders back and my chin up. It felt like I was dragging a knife through my gut.

Yama stood at a communication console when I arrived, Kei at the opposite. Judging by the sound of silence, it appeared everyone on the bridge held their breaths, waiting for the new arrival. They didn't notice me until I stood between Yama and Kei.

"Captain." Yama's voice held a warning. "You're not supposed to be out of bed."

Kei stared at my bare feet, amusement creeping into her expression.

"I want to see who's come to kill me," I said. Though if I was being honest, I'd come to see who Yama would fight. As the seventh of seven assassins, he was already ranked weaker than any of them. Had he fought Bainas, the match would have ended within seconds. Yama had nowhere near the skill or training of even the assassin directly above him. I told him he couldn't die, and yet I was allowing him to go on with this suicide of a duel.

"They're within range," Kei said. "Requesting communication link."

"Go ahead," Yama answered before I could. As the new assassin appeared on the overhead, I watched the color drain from Yama's face. His hands shook no matter how tightly he gripped the console in front of him. If the utter loss drowning his eye was any indication, this was a friend whether he would admit it or not.

No one spoke right away, neither Yama nor the man I turned to find glaring at me from his cockpit. I would have spoken, but for once I found myself at a loss. Gaia could be fools, but they weren't stupid. They should have known better than to send a man I'd fought before as an undercover agent against me. Granted, the "undercover" part didn't matter at this point, but it was strange that they'd ever considered Warrius Zero at all. He was one of Gaia's generals now. The whole of the crew knew of him. I'd blown up a ship he captained back when he was in his 20s, spared him only because he fought to protect the civilians we didn't know were onboard. Though to be fair, our duel never ended with a clear winner or loser.

Yama was the first to speak, all eyes on him except for Zero's. "Are you here for a duel?" Yama's voice wavered either from anger or sadness. With his head down, his hair hung in front of his eye. The last time I'd seen him show such weakness in front of an enemy, his brother was standing over him.

Zero's eyes remained on me as he answered. "Yes, I have been assigned to kill Harlock."

Yama's jaw was taut. The trembling of his hands infected his shoulders. "I am Harlock's successor. I wear the brand that marks us as equals. You will duel me in his place." As his chin jerked up, resolve strengthened his gaze into a glare. But Zero, the man who'd stared me down the same way years before, winced and glanced away.

"That's fine," he said despite the pain in his eyes. "As long as I kill one of you, my mission is complete. Gaia sees you as an equal threat because of your position."

"We'll duel in the hangar," Yama said. "Kei, open the doors to let him in."

Her hand hovered over her console as though she feared touching it. Even as she gave in and tapped out the command, her movements were sluggish.

"Very well," Zero answered. "I wish you luck." He never once looked directly at Yama.

Once the feed shut off, Yama's fist smashed into the top of his console. Half the bridge crew jolted against the noise. "Not him," he choked, raw pain eating at his voice. "They weren't supposed to send him. He wasn't one of us."

That made more sense. "Then why send one of their generals?" I asked.

"He was the one who trained us because he'd dueled you before. He's Gaia's best swordsman."

Yama would die. Quickly. Without question. Regardless of Zero's rank, Yama was coming apart at the seams. He held himself up against the console, fighting away tremors that wracked his form. He couldn't win any duel like this.

Then he continued, with the broken whisper of a lost child. "He's my uncle. He took care of us after Mom died. I can't lose him too." He looked up to me with pain bleeding from his eye, as though he wanted me to find some solution. But there was none. I had no reassurances, and I couldn't encourage him to kill his uncle.

"He's the last family I have left," Yama pleaded.

"Will he kill you?" I asked. "Would he kill his nephew?"

"I don't know." Without warning, Yama spun and ran for the door. "I have to talk to him," he gasped.

I followed in as quick of a gait as my stomach would allow, catching the doors just before they closed and slipping in after him. As we started down, he collapsed his weight against the wall. "Harlock." His voice sounded lost on a breeze, empty and far away. "This doesn't make sense."

No, it did make sense. It made sense for Gaia. They knew this would tear Yama apart. They wanted to break him. They had the means to do it, and they would use them.

As he clutched his shirt just above his heart and bit back tears, I burned with a resurgence of hatred for them. It was a hatred I hadn't felt in ages, the kind that made my mouth taste bitter. If there was any chance I could get both Zero and Yama out of this alive, I would take it.

There was one solid option.

Yama said he didn't want me to die either, but Zero was something to him. Zero was the last one he had left. Zero was everything.

Yama loved Zero. Perhaps Zero loved Yama as well.

I didn't know if I would die for that love, but I would be damned if I didn't do everything in my power to keep it in tact.

* * *

**If you like this trash fic (are you okay?) or if you think I am trash (it's true), you can leave a review letting me know if you feel like it. I use them to feed my ego. Also, fun fact I am honestly kind of bitter Carpe Noctem is so much more popular than this fic. **


	5. Straight

**Throws confetti. Tomorrow I have one last final, and then the semester is finally over. Then I will also hopefully update long-suffering Carpe Noctem. I just already had some of this chapter done, so it got updated first. So here's an extra melodramatic chapter for my little reader base. Sorry it took so long. Hopefully I'll be updating more frequently now. Hopefully...**

**Also, remember the gore warning. **

* * *

Along with our sleeping quarters, the lounge was the only room in the facility not devoted to our training. It was always stocked with food, and the long couch was perfect for naps during even the shortest of breaks. It was my favorite room at times, depending on who else was in it. Bainas didn't make for bad company, but in combination with Warrius, she could be trouble.

"As much as I love beating the poor guy up, you might want to try pairing him with his boyfriend for duels more often," she said through a sympathetic smile. "Less likely to get hurt that way."

At the word "boyfriend," Warrius pulled the bandage so tight my arm felt strangled. I hissed against the sting of fabric rubbing raw flesh. We didn't use real ammunition in the training rooms, but blasts were still enough to burn off a layer or two of skin. When I was shot by a saber or gun, which was more than anyone else, Warrius hauled me to the lounge couch and set to work applying first aid.

"He is not Yama's boyfriend," Warrius said as he loosened his grip on the bandage. His touch was lighter when he returned to wrapping. "And Yama needs to understand how to fight against a saber. He needs to see how dangerous someone with skill can be. Sabers can have the advantage over guns at long or short range when wielded correctly."

Though he spoke to her, his words were directed at me. My disadvantage was obvious to everyone. Even the handful of duels I'd won would have left me with fatal injuries in a real fight. I had skill and training from the army, but all the other assassins were on another level.

"Give him a break," Bainas said, resting her elbows on the counter at her back. "Most assassins are dead if they end up in a fight anyway. Yama will be better off being a sneaky bastard about it and killing Harlock when he's not paying attention."

"That's the problem," Warrius said, looking up from my arm to speak to me directly. "Harlock understands something that you haven't figured out yet. You can never let your guard down. You must pay attention to what's going on around you at all times. Even in a one-on-one duel, you have to know what's happening around you. Typical assassins rely on their targets not paying attention, but Harlock knows better. You're not the first attempted assassins against him. That's why we're focusing so much on training you all in combat."

"I should hope you're not trying to train us to be stealthy," Bainas snorted. "You're not exactly the type."

With one of his rare smiles, Warrius tied off the wrapping for my arm. "I did my time with undercover missions, but Gaia wanted someone who'd experienced Harlock's fighting style. They seem to think after a five-minute duel ten years ago I know everything about him."

"So do you?" Bainas asked, smirking.

Warrius leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. "Harlock doesn't have one set style. He adapts to yours. He can go from reckless offense to seamless defense at the flip of a switch. I went through every trick I knew as fast as I could, but he's seen it all. He knows how to counter. In a saber duel, your best bet is to keep him on his toes. Do things no one would ever consider an option. For guns, you'd better have a lightning-fast draw and know the best place for cover in any room. But if you're smart, you shouldn't have to face him alone. You're better off if you stay undercover until we can intervene."

"That sounds boring," Bainas said. "Besides, you know Gaia just wants us to shoot him while his back's turned. They don't want to get their hands dirty with this one. If the assassin is killed by his crew, Gaia will act like we never existed." Any normal person would have been upset by that, but Bainas shrugged and headed for the door. "I'll kill him the way I want, so he better make a wise choice about which planet he stops on."

Once her back vanished from view, Warrius breathed a sigh. He took his hat from his head and plopped it onto mine. It was too big, the brim dipping down to cover my eyes and resting on the bridge of my nose.

"If you are picked," he said in a soft, thin voice that gave away whatever expression he was trying to hide, "I don't care what Gaia or Ezra want. You come back alive, Yama." I tilted my chin up to catch a glimpse of his eyes burning with desperation as he stared me down. "I already saw my sister die before me. I won't see it happen to you too."

* * *

The echo of my boots against the metal flooring filled the otherwise silent hangar. Harlock didn't make a sound on bare feet. He was practically a ghost, his face paler than usual. He did not need to be out of bed, but I knew he was too damn stubborn for me to drag him back to the infirmary.

From beneath the shadowing brim of his cap, Warrius' eyes flicked over Harlock. It was clear he did not approve of my choice of captain. But whether or not Warrius would admit it, they were similar. Warrius was also too stubborn. I wouldn't be able to convince him to join us. I would be lucky if I could convince him to keep his weapons holstered. Just like Harlock, who shouldn't have been carrying his weapons in the first place, Warrius kept his gun on his right hip, his saber on his left. As my eye found them, I wondered which one he would kill me with.

I stopped ten strides away from him, staring at him even as he wouldn't look at me. It was either out of shame or disgust that he kept his eyes away, but I couldn't blame him. Something about looking at him was enough to exhaust me. We didn't need to do this. It didn't make sense. I fought Ezra. I watched him die. But not Warrius. Not him too.

Just as I opened my mouth, Harlock's voice rang out from beside me. "Why are you doing this?" he asked. His tone was stable and commanding in a way I couldn't hope to make mine at that moment.

"I am under orders to kill either Captain Harlock or his successor," Warrius answered in the same tone he would use to scold me years ago. But he kept his piercing eyes locked on Harlock. I'd never seen him so adamantly disapprove of someone since Ezra let me join the assassins.

Harlock's gaze offered no venom in return. The most he would do was blink. "But why?" he pressed. "Why not turn down such a mission. Either you will die, or your nephew will."

Warrius' eye twitched. "There is a lack of an option where you die."

I didn't know if Harlock had some sort of plan that involved pissing off my uncle, but I wasn't sure he knew what he was getting himself into. "You're not dueling me," Harlock said. "So my death can't be an option as things stand."

"Maybe we should change that." Warrius' chin tilted back as he glared down his nose at the pirate. He was the only person I knew who was actually taller than Harlock, and he towered over me. Anyone else might have found him intimidating, but Harlock did not look concerned, and I knew my uncle too well to find him frightening. He would kill me if we ended up fighting, but I didn't fear him for that. It only made me feel more tired, down to the marrow of my bones. I felt cold, empty. I swore my limbs were hollow, but somehow I stayed standing. Falling would do nothing for me.

"You're fighting me," I reminded both of them. I knew if I didn't intervene, Harlock would take Warrius up on his offer.

Warrius turned to face me as though someone was forcing his head that way. His eyes remained on Harlock until the last moment, when they snapped to me. I expected the same glare along with a scolding. But his gaze softened, his brows drawn. "I am," he agreed. "I will use whichever weapon you prefer." He motioned to each holster hanging from his hips.

He was letting me choose how I died.

"You don't have to do this," Harlock cut in once again, drawing Warrius' attention. "It's clear you don't want him dead, so why go through with this order?"

It felt like a blow to the head as I realized he was trying harder to find a way around this than me, but if Warrius set his mind to something, he would do it. I was a pirate now. I was his enemy. It was perfectly reasonable for him to want me dead, but I couldn't muster up the same drive. This was the man who helped raise me, who told me tales of space travel and great battles against pirates until I fell asleep. The thought of killing him sickened me.

Warrius seemed to speak to me as he answered. "I will carry this out to the end. I must follow orders."

I wanted to run up and punch him, to feel his jaw crack and my knuckles shatter. Even if I was his enemy now, he was supposed to care about me more than he cared about Gaia. We were the same flesh and blood. He was supposed to care like I cared. My hands curled so tightly into fists that my gloves squeaked against the treatment.

But then again, Ezra was the same. I couldn't say why Warrius would be any different when my own brother wanted me dead. I let out a sharp breath through my nose before relaxing the aching joints in my hands. Harlock started to ask another question, trying to apply reason where there was none. I spoke over him. "What if I refuse to fight you?"

He answered without hesitation. "I will kill you unless Harlock steps in and takes up the challenge instead. In which case, I'll kill him." Warrius looked to Harlock, who returned his gaze with interest. That bastard would happily accept. Reaching over, I swatted Harlock's stomach. His shoulders tensed as he wheezed in pain.

"He's just here to moderate," I growled. "You're dueling me. And you-" I shoved at Harlock's shoulder. Even injured, he didn't lose his footing, simply blinking down at me instead. "Go stand elsewhere so no stray shots hit you. We'll duel with guns."

"Yama," Harlock murmured. "You don't have to-"

"He's just as stubborn as you," I said before he could finish. "He's a soldier, and we won't be able to convince him. He works for Gaia. If it was anyone else, wouldn't we kill them without a second thought?"

Harlock's brows pinched. "Then that's where you got it. You're as stubborn as him too." He opened his mouth to say something else, but only a sigh escaped him before he placed his hand to my shoulder. "Stay alive, Yama."

If only it were that easy.

I turned to find Warrius glaring at Harlock's back as Harlock walked to a fighter for cover against our duel. "Don't shoot any of my equipment," he called to Warrius, who scowled in response.

"So guns then?" Warrius huffed as he returned his attention to me. "It takes longer for me to aim a saber, you know."

"I don't think that fraction of a second is going to make a huge difference. Besides, if you manage to get close with a saber, I'm as good as dead." I felt a heavy smile cross my lips.

Warrius retuned it with age showing in his eyes. "You know my fighting style a little too well."

It was true, but he knew mine better. He was more skilled with a saber than a gun, but his ability with a gun was more than enough to kill me with ease, not that I was going down without a fight.

"Same rules as training?" I asked.

He nodded. "Ready?"

"Begin," I said.

Ten seconds. Ten seconds before we could draw our weapons. In this time, I could move around as I pleased and find cover if I wanted. I took a slow step back, counting time in my head. Warrius made no move to follow or hide like me. He watched my every move but made none of his own.

If I stayed out in the open once time was up, I was dead. Turning, I walked to the wheel of a fighter. It was the only cover the room had to offer, the same type Harlock stood behind. It wasn't enough to completely cover me, but I pressed my shoulder to it, making myself as thin of a target as possible. My hand hovered over my gun as I peered around to check his location.

Eight… Nine…

He still hadn't moved, hands relaxed at his sides. Either he was trying to make things as fair as possible, or he was mocking me.

My heart thrummed in my chest, but instead of adrenaline, I still only felt exhaustion. Once again, I had to fight my own blood, and this time it was my last direct relative. I wanted to cry and scream. I wanted to punch him and hug him and go back to the days where he would visit Ezra and me at home with a big grin on his face. I wanted anything from before the day he visited me in the hospital and told me about Ezra and Nami's conditions.

But that was my own fault, and so was this.

"Ten." His voice echoed through the room, and I curled my fingers around the handle of my gun. This would be quick. Bainas and Harlock could duel for ages, but guns had no flourish. One shot, maybe two, and one of us would go down.

It would not be me.

I ripped my gun from its holster just as a shot hit the fighter's leg. Had it gone through, it would have been a clean shot through my head, but it ricocheted off with a sharp ping. Warrius could draw faster than anyone I knew, and he had damn near perfect aim. That shot missed on purpose.

My only chance was to hit him with a fatal blow while he was out in the open. The thought made my stomach roll with nausea. Considering how many I'd killed, maybe I should have been used to it by now. This was just one more notch in my belt, one more meaningless death.

I had no time to aim. I could only glance around enough to see his unchanged position before taking my shot. He swept one leg back, pivoting on the other before I'd finished pulling the trigger. Even from back behind my cover, I knew the shot didn't scratch him. He'd just stepped out of the way like it was nothing.

"You still telegraph your intent too much," he called. "And you rely too heavily on your cover."

"Well, maybe you should have trained me better." Now was not the time for pointers. He wasn't supposed to keep acting like the man who led our rag-tag bunch of assassins. He was the assassin now, and he needed to start acting like it.

When he spoke again, an icy chill ran up my spine. "I told you to pay attention to your surroundings," he said. As my mind registered his voice coming from a different position, a blast slammed into my right shoulder. The blow threw me to the ground as the searing burn erupted through my shattered bones.

I was able to twist as I fell to avoid landing on my shoulder, but it didn't help much. My back hit the metal flooring, my skull following with a crack. I could see him standing with his gun raised and smoking. He'd moved a few paces around my cover toward my back, somehow silent despite his boots.

My shoulder throbbed with hellfire as I raised my gun. The heat of blood cracked through the cauterized burn, soaking my ruined shirt. My entire body seemed to buzz with pain, my vision blurring. But I had to survive, so I took a shot.

His gun answered.

If I hit him, I couldn't be bothered to notice, not with the new hole in my hand. I grasped what was left to my chest, my gun lost somewhere to the floor as I roared my pain. My working hand stung as it clutched over the missing chunk of flesh from my palm. Half my ring and pinky finger vanished completely. Blood welled between my remaining fingers, and coated my palms. In the back of my mind, I wondered why I wasn't dead yet.

For a few staggered, wheezing breaths, I could only writhe in pain. Clarity came in the form of a gun pressed to my forehead. The metal was like ice, almost pleasant compared to the burning heat of my wounds. "I'm sorry," Warrius said. His voice trembled like the gun in his hand. I had to blink against the haze covering my eyes to see him.

He knelt beside me, pain and tears welling up in his eyes. A blackened hole cut through his jacket on the side of his chest, blood pooling out around the fabric. "You could have dodged that," I muttered through panting breaths. A wound like that could fill his lung with blood. He would need to treat it quickly.

"No, you hit me fair and square." He placed his hand over mine. Despite how gentle his touch was, I still flinched against the sting. "You got me good." His eyes drowned in sadness. I couldn't stand to see him in pain - in pain because of me. My family's suffering seemed to always be my fault.

I closed my eyes, waiting for him to pull the trigger. I wondered what Harlock was doing. Maybe he wanted to punch me now for making such a novice mistake.

The cool barrel of the gun disappeared from my head, but my pain remained. I guessed that meant I wasn't dead yet. I opened my eyes as Warrius' arms circled my back. He pulled me to his chest, his heart pounding against my cheek. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I'm sorry, but you're asking too much."

I didn't remember asking him to kill me. As much as I wanted to hold him in return, I felt too weak to move. My limbs felt poisoned, aching with emptiness. Pain still echoed from my wounds in sharp jolts with every heartbeat, but dizziness and exhaustion were taking over. I was losing blood fast.

"Let's just end it here," I murmured, closing my eyes again as I rested my weight against him.

But he drifted away, easing me back down to the floor. "I wish I could," he said. "But Gaia will not accept failure."

My view of him grew fuzzy as he stood and turned away. "Harlock," he called. "I know this is too much to ask, but let me duel you instead."

"No," I hissed. My good hand pawed at the air as though I could grab him. "Your fight is with me."

"I know it is," he sighed. "But you're just my little nephew, and I can't hurt you anymore."

He said that like a fight between him and Harlock wouldn't affect me. I rolled to my side as Harlock strode forward. Struggling to push myself up brought more pools of blood from my hand. My right arm burned as though my blood turned to lava, but it didn't matter. I had to stop those idiots.

"You really don't have a choice," Harlock said, realization in his voice. Though I couldn't make him out as more than a blur, I knew his hand rested on his saber. I never should have left his damn weapons in the infirmary where he could get them.

"Let's end this quickly," Warrius said. "Yama needs medical attention."

No, I needed them to stop this. I heaved myself up to my knees before dropping to all fours. My right arm was a blur of red beneath me.

"Very well then," Harlock said. I heard the hiss of sabers drawn from their holsters.

"No!" I roared. "Don't you dare!"

The bastards ignored me. Blades clashed – once, then again. I heard it more than saw, their forms blurred in my eye. The fight moved slower than Harlock and Bainas'. It didn't appear to be because of their injuries. Long pauses held the air after each strike, their blades held together in silence.

I staggered to my feet, intent on stepping between them. Vertigo took over my plans. The world shifted and spun until the ground rushed up to me. The floor was cool, tempting. I almost stayed there. Another attempt to push myself up bowed my arms out from under me. It looked like crawling was my only option.

Neither Harlock nor Warrius spoke. I only heard metal crash into metal and watched smears of the fight across my vision. Sleep dragged me toward relaxing, but I placed one hand in front of the other and pushed with my toes until I could almost reach out and swipe at Warrius' leg.

I heard a choke, followed by the sound of blood gurgling in someone's throat. A saber clattered to the ground. My heart trilled in fear, but I heard the two panting above me. No one was dead yet. I reached out and curled my fingers into Warrius' pant leg. "No," I said again, barely a whisper. I pulled myself up with my grip until I sat on my knees, holding his leg for stability. "No more," I breathed.

I felt a soft weight press over my head. It slipped down over my eyes until the familiar brim of Warrius' cap touched the tip of my nose. "If there is any mercy left in this world," he said, "you won't be the last of us."

I tried to make sense of his words, tried to think, tried to stay conscious. The darkness from beneath the hat and the soothing warmth of his voice invited me to sleep.

"There's no other choice?" Harlock asked.

"None," Warrius said. A hacking, wet cough interrupted him. When he spoke again, his words were strained. "I've lost."

"No," I repeated. I felt like it was all I knew anymore. I let go of his leg and reached up with my broken hand, trying to find his. Just as I brushed the tips of his fingers, a shot rang out, and they slipped out of my grasp.

"No," I called, reaching out for empty air. I said it over and over until a hand took hold of mine. Another pressed the cap down, keeping it in place, keeping me blind.

"Let's get you to the infirmary," Harlock said.

I didn't care about that. I didn't care about him or anything else. Everything hurt, and I was too tired to fight it anymore. I felt myself hit the floor, and then I felt nothing.

* * *

**Adds another strike to my Zero death count. There's a lot of vague stuff in this chapter that'll get more clarification later. Half of that is due to Yama being out of it. **

**Oh and thank you so much to all of those who commented last chapter. Wow, gosh, comments. Real life comments. I can't believe it. It's a miracle. You're all great people, and I hope you have a good day.**


	6. Bluff

**Now I've written some embarrassing things, but this is among the top contenders for most embarrassing. I can't even believe. But I am unconvinced Harlock would be a smooth, charming boyfriend. I mean, have you seen Harlock? He is a dweeb. Dweeblock.**

**Anyway, here are some words. I hope you like them.**

* * *

At this point, I'd grown accustomed to waking up sore. I imagined that was what it felt like to grow old. But anyone who slept on a metal slab was bound to wake up with aches in their joints. I pushed myself up slow, heaving a sigh. The resealed wound in my gut strained against the movement, threatening to rip open yet again.

"You didn't manage any serious harm," a voice from across the room informed me. Kei stood at the sink, cleaning the surgical equipment that stitched me and Yama back together. I thought the doctor would let me off because Yama's condition was so much worse, but he called Kei down to knock me out as well.

I traced a finger over my new stitches. That stomach wound would leave a clear scar with all the abuse it had taken. The new slice on my clavicle added to the map across my chest and shoulders, like train tracks covering my skin. Had I been any slower, that cut would have gone across my throat. Had I been any slower, Zero would have won. Even injured, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Metal clattered against metal as Kei dumped the tools into their tray. "The doctor still doesn't want you moving around," she said. "But I think he knows you're a lost cause because he's pretty drunk right now. Can't be bothered to scold you himself."

"How is-" I began before she spoke over me.

"Yama is in his room. He went there as soon as we woke up. His shoulder is a mess, and his fingers are… Well, they're gone. We doubted the dark matter could fix that, so the doctor put robotic caps on as a replacement. They work just as well as real fingers, but he won't have any feeling in them. The big hole in his hand was the bigger issue. We reconnected what we could and added a skin graft, but he has trouble moving his pinky." After slipping her hands free from wet gloves, she grabbed one of my shirts from the table beside her and strode toward me. "Just so we're clear, I think you're both idiots."

I nodded. Whether I agreed or not, there was no arguing with Kei. She tossed the shirt at my chest, one of my loose-fitted sleep shirts, which I rarely wore. "Yama is mad at me," I said more than asked as I carefully pulled it on.

Kei shrugged. "You did kill his uncle. But I couldn't tell if he was mad or not." She crossed her arms, tapping one finger against her upper arm. "He was just sad, you know? As soon as he woke up, he took that hat and wandered off to his room. That was right after we finished surgery on you, so he was still a little out of it." Her expression twisted, as though she couldn't decide how to feel on the matter.

"I wasn't sure what to do," I confessed. "I couldn't let Zero kill me. Even if I could have ignored my morals to do such a thing, Yama would have been alone when the next assassin arrived. I'm not sure he could win in his condition."

"So why not just, you know, not kill the guy?" she asked, glaring at me. "I get that your whole honor code keeps you from turning down any request for a duel, but couldn't you make an exception in this case? I mean-" She threw her hands up with a growl. "This is insane!"

"It is, and I'm starting to think the reason for that is more than just these assassins being dutiful in following their orders. That was why I couldn't lock him away or turn him down. 'Gaia will not accept failure.'" In my head, I could hear him saying those words, pain laced in every syllable. "We had to finish the fight," I said. "There was no other choice."

"There's always another choice," Kei said, her voice low and even. "We'll find it. You two have just been lucky so far. I don't care if we have to shoot the next fighter that shows up, I won't let you die so easily."

I turned, letting my legs fall and dangle off the side of the slab. I wondered when the last time I'd worn shoes was. "I'll see what I can do, Kei," I said. "But please don't do that."

She took a step back, allowing me to ease myself to the floor. "We could just not let them onboard," she said.

"I have a feeling Gaia would not pick them up, and the fighters do not contain enough fuel to take them back. These were designed to be one-way missions." My wounds stretched and strained against my weight as I stood. If that had been a fair fight, I surely would have been riddled with new wounds, like I had with Bainas. In a way, I got off easy, but I wasn't sure it was preferable.

"So you're saying we should just go blow up all of Gaia's headquarters?" Kei prompted. Despite the faux seriousness in her eyes, she was unable to hold back a smile.

I breathed a laugh, shaking my head. "We really should, but maybe another day."

"You're no fun, Captain," she said with a dramatic sigh.

"I know, I know. I'm just too old to be fun anymore."

She snorted. "Be careful with your word choice. The doctor might start making you walk with a cane. Lucky for you, I'm overseeing your release, and I think you're pretty spry for your age, so I'll let you go. Just don't tear open that wound again."

"I'll do my best," I said as I turned for the door.

"And be careful with Yama. He may not be too happy to see you right away."

"Maybe I was just going to my room," I said. I didn't realize I was that predictable.

"Sure, Captain." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. I headed out into the hall before I could embarrass myself further.

There was a part of me that feared hatred and rejection from Yama. It left cold, heavy dread in my stomach, like I'd swallowed a piece of the metal floor currently freezing my toes. But more important than that was the burn of worry flaring through my chest. He was hurting, and he was alone. I couldn't allow it to continue, even if he hated me. At the very least, I needed to check on him. My body ached for more than that, to hold him and drown him in promises I couldn't keep.

I swore I wouldn't do that. He deserved better. He wasn't some child to be coddled. But when I heard his broken voice through the door to his room, my reason faltered. "Come in," he said to my knock, his pitch cracking.

When the door slid open, it was difficult not to see him like a child. He lay on his side, hugging the worn hat to his chest. His right arm hung in a cast, but a fresh uniform covered any true damage. Gauze and bandages bound much of his right hand, two silver fingertips visible against the white.

Though it was dry now, red rimmed his eye. A forced smile cracked across his lips as he watched me walk toward him. "I'm a mess," he said. Somehow, it hurt more that he could acknowledge it.

I sat on the edge of his bed beside his legs, wondering what to say. Whatever my reason in coming, I'd forgotten the moment I saw him. He didn't appear to mind the silence. No hatred burned in his eye as he watched me. The only emotion I could place was pain, rooted so deeply in his expression he couldn't hope to hide it with a false smile. "I will take any remaining duels," I decided. "Someone else will oversee them from now on."

His smile slipped and disappeared. "I'm the only one here who knows those assassins. I know how they fight. I have a better chance-"

I spoke over him, not wanting to hear whatever excuses he had to kill himself. "You've fought them all before, but you've lost to all of them before. You don't have the skill to kill them, and you don't have the strength." He winced, his eye darting away. "Whether you'll admit it or not, those people were friends to you. You and I both know you can't keep this up. If another one arrives, you'll oversee the bridge while I duel them."

"If all of them show up, there are four left," he hissed. "You can't beat all of them, not one right after the other. It's like fighting four against one if you do this alone."

"I've fought against worse odds," I said more harshly than I'd intended. "Even if I happen to die, you will take over as-"

He sat up, the hat falling to his lap as his fingers crushed into fists in my shirt front. His shoulder must have been numbed from pain. I couldn't imagine him moving his arm otherwise. "Don't you dare say that!" His eye was wild, arms shaking with the strain of his grip. Pure rage and venom coursed through him. "You can't die! I won't lose you! I can't!" Something broke inside him, like a taut string snapping in two. Anger morphed to anguish, and he dropped his face to my shoulder. "I can't lose you too," he whispered. The trembling of his shoulders infected his voice as he pressed into the crook of my neck. "I'm not just here to take over when you… when you die. You can't put that on me. It hurts too much. I want to fight _with_ you."

I couldn't seem to breathe. It caught in my aching throat. God, it hurt. Everything hurt. I put my arms around him and crushed him as close as I could because I didn't know what else to do. My heart bled for him. "I can't watch you get hurt like that again," I whispered. "I can't let you fight them anymore."

Standing there, planting my feet and just watching was Hell. I had to grab the fighter's leg to keep from going for my gun and shooting Zero through the head. I wanted to tear him apart. I wanted him dead and bleeding on the floor the moment he snuck around and shot Yama. But I had to stand there and watch, watch Yama's blood pool across the floor, watch him scream and writhe as he held what was left of his hand. I had to see him resigned to death, even while I couldn't accept it. I almost did it then. I almost shot Zero in the back. It would have been so easy. It would have been disgusting.

"How do you think I felt to watch you get hurt?" he choked. "I watched a saber go through you." He raised his head to look me in the eye. His hands released my shirt, the good one drifting up to rest on my cheek. "You don't know what the rest of them can do to you, but I do," he said. "You'll die, and you just can't, Harlock. If you die, part of me dies with you. Yama will be gone. I'll just be a cheap imitation of you, and I can't be you. I _need_ you."

Tears spilled from his eye as I pressed my forehead to his. His skin was so warm. My chest flared with fire at every little touch, and I realized how much I needed him too. I needed to touch him, to hear him speak and breathe. But at that moment, I needed for him to be happy. I needed it like air. Every piece of me ached for it.

"We'll find a way," I whispered. "We'll survive, no matter what. I won't leave you. I won't lose you." It was one of those promises I wasn't supposed to make. Even if we survived the assassins, we weren't safe. Death hung over my shoulder like an old friend, but I'd be damned if I didn't go down fighting. I would fight for him, to keep him from drowning in this dread and pain again.

We stayed like that for what could have been hours and yet not long enough, just holding each other. Part of me felt content, but the rest of me knew better. This was not true happiness, not as long as Yama looked so tired and broken.

He pulled back after a while. I thought he might leave, but he crawled into my lap instead, his back to my chest. Once again, he found the hat and brought it to him with his good arm. "Tell me about your fight with him," he whispered. "I was so out of it. Tell me what happened."

I flinched, suddenly afraid to be touching him, to be so close to him. There was no malice in his voice, but there was nothing in his voice at all. With his face turned from me, I had nothing to read. Still, I couldn't deny him this. "He wasn't anything like Bainas," I said. "He used a two-handed saber, so he fought with strength, not speed. His blows were powerful, calculated. It was all I could do to keep steady. I've never fought someone quite like him."

Yama's arms tightened around the cap. I waited for him to stop me with a scream or a curse. I waited for hatred that never seemed to come. "He wanted to finish the fight quickly, so he was more reckless than before, but he still got a deep cut in and made me reopen my wound. The only reason I won," I sighed, "was because of that shot in his chest. He started coughing up blood. I knocked his saber from his hand, and that was the end."

Yama reached up and threaded his fingers through my hair. "It's not your fault," he whispered. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't be angry with you because it's not your fault." He wasn't telling me that. He was telling himself. There was hatred in him, but he wouldn't let it escape. It was surely worse for him to cage it inside himself, but I couldn't bring myself to ask for punishment. I couldn't stand the idea of him hating me.

"I believe Gaia forced him into this mission somehow," I said. "He was no mindless soldier. He had a will of his own." He died so that Yama could live.

A knock came at the door, and Yama breathed a sigh. "Yes?" he called.

"The funeral is ready," one of the men answered, faltering on the word funeral. We could never hold proper ones. They were more send-offs than true funerals.

I was forced to release Yama as he stood. "Alright. I'll be there in a minute," he said.

As I rose to my feet, Yama turned with that same smile etched across his face, as though he couldn't bear to wear it. It was the smile Zero died with as he watched his nephew. Zero looked at Yama the same way Yama looked at me, and that scared me more than anything.

"I just want to be alone for this, alright?" he said, reaching out to place his hand on my chest, to hold me in place. "I'm not mad at you. I'm not. I just…"

"But you are, and that's fine." I placed my hand over his and curled my fingers around it.

"It's not fine," he whispered. "It's not your fault."

His hand fell as I stepped forward. "You can be mad if you want. You have every right to be." I reached up, cradling his face as fresh tears rimmed his eye. Tilting his face up, I brushed my lips to his forehead. "As long as you forgive me, you can hate me all you want right now."

His hand clasped my wrist as I ran my thumbs against his cheeks. Despite my words, I didn't want him to leave. It was wrong to let him go to a funeral alone. Even if I couldn't say anything to help, I at least wanted to be there for him. Alone, he had no one to lean on. He would fall on his knees from the agony. I knew that feeling, and I wanted him as far from it as possible.

Too soon he sighed that he needed to go. I hated myself for letting him.

I went back to my room and downed glass after glass of wine. It burned through me, but it was nothing like the warmth I felt when I was with him. At some point, the glass in my hand became a bottle, and I lay in bed sipping it as I stared at the ceiling. My mind barely bothered to register footsteps coming toward me before the bottle was tugged from my grasp. I looked over to find Yama swirling its contents. His cheeks and nose were puffy and red from crying, eyes bloodshot. He looked dead on his feet.

"You're drunk," he said.

"Maybe a little, but you're exhausted." I reached out to him, but he thought I was grabbing for the bottle and held it out of my reach. Instead, my hand settled on his waist. "Come to bed," I commanded in as much of my usual captain tone as I could manage.

He smiled, the kind that eased onto his face and reached his eye. My chest felt as though it was glowing with warmth, and I urged him closer, reaching out with both hands like a greedy child.

He placed the bottle to the bedside table before crawling into my grasp. My arms laced around him, and I rolled to my back with him struggling to find balance on top of me. "Be careful!" he said. "Your wound."

"It's fine," I hummed. Despite my attempts to keep him firmly locked in my grasp, he managed to loosen himself enough to nestle against my side. Then he grabbed the wine bottle and gulped down a few mouthfuls, cringing at the taste.

"You've had enough," he said before I could take it from him.

He kept drinking, shuddering against the flavor. I tried to mind, but then I would have been a hypocrite. And it was hard to feel anything but contentment with his head resting against my chest and my arm around him.

"What are we?" I asked as he placed the bottle back to the table, his tongue sticking out. I felt like I might have an answer this time, and I wondered if he did too.

"Don't ask that," he sighed, irritated.

"Why not?"

He turned to frown at me, his cheeks tinged pink with a blush as he found our noses scrunched together. I wanted to feel the warmth of his skin, so rested my hand on his face. This seemed to make him warmer. "I love you," he huffed, none too pleased about it, "and it scares me. This wasn't supposed to happen."

I nodded. "It scares me too, but I love you. That's just the way things are."

"Are you just saying that because you're drunk?" he hissed.

"I'm not that drunk." I tilted my head just enough to kiss the tip of his nose. "But I love you when I'm sober too."

He rolled his eye and turned his face back so I couldn't reach it. "You're never sober," he said.

Fair point. And I did doubt either of us would have admitted our feelings for each other if not for the wine. I couldn't even admit them to myself. Maybe I would deny it in the morning, but for now I had him. He was mine once again.

I leaned my face into his hair, breathing his scent. "Don't do that," he muttered. "I really need a shower."

"You smell nice," I hummed. His smell wasn't particularly like anything. It was just Yama. I loved it because it was a part of him, and maybe also because I was drunk.

His good hand reached up to hold mine, settled on his middle. Rather than entwine our fingers, he seemed to play with the idea of it, tracing his fingers between mine.

"Are you alright?" I murmured.

"No," he said. "But let's pretend I am. Let's pretend everything is okay, just for tonight. Nothing bad is going to happen tomorrow." He breathed a sigh, turning to lie on his side.

"It's a nice night," I said, going along with it as well as my muddled brain could. "Any night where I get to be near you is nice."

He shushed me and reached up to lightly smack my face. "It's embarrassing when you say things like that. Go back to being stoic and quiet before I start regretting this even more."

"As you like," I breathed, nuzzling my face into his hair again. "Get some rest."

It was a beautiful night, stars shimmering through my window and Yama's soft breathing the only sound in the room. I tried to hold onto it, to stay there watching his relaxed, sleeping face forever. But I closed my eye, and it was over too soon.

Kei's voice overhead woke us. "Incoming fighter," she said through the intercom. "You know the drill."

Yama's expression was hollow as he rolled out of bed. He went to his room for his gloves and gun as I changed into my usual uniform for the first time in days. I had no plan for dealing with the next assassin, no idea how to stop the fight. I had to hope I would come up with something in the interim.

I met Yama in the hall, and silent as he was, I doubted Yama had any ideas either. As we stepped onto the bridge, Kei raised a brow at the sight of us but said nothing. All the men looked tired or irritated with the situation. Perhaps Gaia's plan was to annoy my crew into mutiny. It was certainly the best idea they'd ever come up with.

"Communication request," Kei said.

Yama inhaled sharply and held his breath.

After a couple clicks from Kei, a new face appeared overhead. She was a thin blonde, her eyes so blue they looked cold, even against the light smile brushing her lips. "Yama," she purred, leaning her chin into her palm. "It's been a while."

Yama wasn't angry, sad, or even surprised. The only emotion on his face was fear. He looked at her as though she was death incarnate, and she smiled back as though she really was.

He whispered her name like it was a curse. "Helmatier."

* * *

**Well, hello character that only I like. There was some debate between my small writing committee of sorts on whether Helmatier or Gido should be an assassin, but I wanted Helmatier because more pretty ladies, dammit.**

**Currently, I'm debating whether or not to bump this up to an M rating for a- uh -certain scene that may appear later on. I'm just not sure if I'll put that scene here or not, but it will for sure be on the AO3 version. Hmmm... I'll decide later. **

**Also thank you to my reviewers. You are amazing. I love. **


	7. Cards Speak

**This may be the longest chapter of anything I've ever written. It's certainly the longest action scene I've ever written. Hopefully everything is moderately coherent since I stayed up all night writing this. Let me know if you see any mistakes or anything. Anyway, onto the dork boyfriends.**

* * *

The moment the buzzer sounded for us to begin, I stood no chance against Helmatier. She moved through the training room like a rabbit dashes through grass. There was no tracking her by sight with the obstacles between us, and even my ears failed to pick up her location. She dodged and dipped through the field, invisible.

If I stepped out of my cover, she would shoot me. I'd tried that strategy dozens of times, always failing within moments, so I held my position along with my breath. Kneeling behind the center of my cover, I waited for her to round either corner. I thought she wouldn't be fast enough to attack before me.

I was wrong.

In a flurry of blonde and blue, she swung around the edge of my cover. As I turned my gun toward her, a slash of her saber sent it clattering away before I could blink. Blood dripped to the floor – my blood. My hand stung with the burn of a fresh cut.

Strange. The practice sabers weren't sharp enough to do any real damage.

With my mind caught on my injury, I looked up to find a gleaming saber bearing down on me. I felt my eyes widen a fragment. That was not a practice saber.

Neither was the one that sliced the air between us, embedding itself in the block I used for cover. Helmatier's saber crashed into it with a metallic clatter before she could slice through my throat.

The excited gleam in her eye burned out, and she stepped back, lowering her blade. "You're too soft, Zero," she sighed. "It will be the death of you."

I looked the direction the intruding saber came from to find Warrius storming our way with murder in his eyes. He supervised a majority of our duels, especially mine. After most losses, he greeted me with a sigh and a pat on the head, but something always seemed to go wrong with Helmatier.

"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" he spat as he tore his saber from the block. Helmatier didn't flinch under his rage. "I don't care what command says. If you keep trying to kill the other trainees, I will have you sent to a different assignment. I told you never to bring a real saber in here again!"

Helmatier crossed her arms, eyes as cool and blue as the seas on Earth. "If they can't win a match against me, they can't win against Harlock. Their life holds no worth if they can't finish the mission, so I'm simply weeding out those we don't need." She nodded to me as I wobbled my way to my feet. "Especially this one. He's useless to us."

Warrius' shoulders rose and fell as he breathed out a portion of his anger. "Believe what you will. You're not in charge. You have no authority over who lives or dies here. Gaia wants every one of you to make it to this mission alive, so you'd be wise to stop tempting me to end your life."

Helmatier's lips curled into that usual sadistic smile. The sea in her eyes swam with an oncoming storm. "Wouldn't that be fun? Perhaps you should learn not to tempt me as well."

"Go shower off," Warrius said, shaking his head. "You're done for today. We'll talk more on this later." His hand clamped down on the collar of my shirt as he turned. "Come on, Yama. Let's get your hand cleaned up."

I didn't have much of a choice with him dragging me from the room. Helmatier's eyes locked with mine before I could turn away, that same smile taunting me. "Your guard dog won't be around to take care of you forever, Yama," she called. "Then the real world will eat you alive."

* * *

"I'm going with you," I said as soon as the overhead display shut off. "I need to be there for this fight." Before Harlock could argue, I turned and started for the door.

"Yama." His voice held a warning as he started after me. "Who is this woman?"

"Should we have shot her ship down?" Kei asked. "We might still be able to."

I didn't answer either of them. I strode onto the lift, Harlock's steps rushing to meet me before the doors closed. "Who is she, Yama?" he asked again. "You have to tell me something. There still might be a way around another duel. Why are you so sure of this fight?" He stared me down, his eye burning with worry.

"Helmatier," I said. Though I kept my expression firm, I couldn't keep my heart from pounding in fear. I studied every inch of Harlock's face, every feature, every line. Maybe this would be the last time he would look at me. Maybe these would be my last moments with him alive. Maybe I could take his place in the fight.

Maybe.

I could die for him.

With the lift descending, I found myself tugging off my glove. My bare hand rose to his face. Now his eye bled with concern. "She was rank three among us," I continued as I traced his scar with the tips of my fingers. "She fights without mercy or pity. She fights dirty, whatever it takes to win, but I can't say she cheats."

Across his nose, over his cheekbone, down along the line of his jaw – I memorized as much of him as I could. "Gaia's second best swordsman," I whispered. "No assassin has a higher body count to their name."

I ran my finger over the soft ridge of his lower lip. If he died, or even if I did, I wanted to hold onto the memory of him like a perfect picture in my mind. He took my hand in his own and curled my fingers down. His lips and nose came to rest against my knuckles. It wasn't really a kiss, but I didn't care. It was perfect, and it was damning. If possible, I would have stopped time and stayed there with him forever, but the lift slowed to a stop.

"I'll fight until my last breath," he murmured against my skin as the doors opened. "Don't give up on me just yet." He released my hand and started toward the hangar. "I still don't think you should watch the fight," he called. "I was going to have the doctor do it instead, but come if you must. I won't stop you."

Of course, everyone on this ship was free to do as they pleased. Either he'd remembered that, or he knew he couldn't talk me out of this. I rushed after him until I reached his side, trying to lengthen my strides to match his. As I looked up at him, he stared straight ahead without fear or hesitation.

Even if I wasn't prepared for the upcoming duel, he was. I tried to remind myself of his strength and ability. Helmatier was a nightmare to me. Unlike the other trainees, she didn't treat our battles like training sessions. They were games of life or death, and she would hurt or kill me given the chance. Fighting her left me trembling, but Harlock was nothing like me. He could beat her. He could win.

Maybe.

I considered telling him dozens of things before we reached the hangar, but I said nothing in the end. The doors slid open to show Helmatier lounging on the nose of her fighter. Her legs were crossed, fingers laced behind her head. I had to keep myself from shooting her then.

"Finally," she said as we neared, though she didn't bother to look at us. With a roll, she slipped from the fighter and dropped to the ground. The heels of her boots cracked against the metal. She knelt to ease the force of the fall from her legs but righted herself to give a sweeping bow. "Harlock," she greeted, her tone as deceptively polite as always. "I am Helmatier. It's a pleasure."

He nodded once. "And you wish to duel me?"

"Absolutely." Her smile didn't match the cruel intent in her eyes, but maybe she didn't want it to. "As much as I'd enjoy that, though, it wouldn't quite be fair, would it? You're injured from past battles, both of you, so I'm willing to offer you a fairer playing field."

Though I knew not to trust her, I couldn't keep my thoughts from begging her to go on. If there was any way to give Harlock better odds, I would take it. Judging by the suspicion in his narrowed eye, he didn't feel the same way, but I would get him help whether he wanted it or not.

"What are you suggesting?" I asked.

Helmatier's brows twitched up for an instant as she looked my way, as though she hadn't realized I was there. "This whole honor system in duels seems rather unnecessary to me," she said with a flourish of her hand. "After all, Gaia isn't being honorable about this, but they never have been the sort. I just thought you might both like to duel me at once. I believe that would make this more reasonable."

"Yes!" I stumbled over myself in answering, desperate to accept before Harlock could refuse. "We'll do that!"

"Yama," Harlock said, low enough to keep her from hearing. "Wait a minute."

"I'm not letting you fight her alone if I can avoid it," I hissed. "There's no reason not to accept."

"By accepting, we're giving her the opportunity to kill us both at once. You really think this is the right choice?"

Helmatier smiled at us despite our whispered argument. She looked as calm as ever, no tension in her stance. Perhaps that was something to fear, but I had to take this chance for Harlock's sake. Even if it cost me my life, if I could shoot her just once, Harlock would be able to finish her.

I challenged Harlock with a glare that he didn't hesitate to return. "We'll face her together," I said. "It's for the best."

"Very well," he said loud enough for Helmatier to hear. He turned his disapproval to the triumphant smile on Helmatier's face. "But first, I would like to ask you some questions regarding this mission."

Helmatier hummed curiously, her head listing to the side. "I have been strictly forbidden from revealing matters of this mission to you or anyone else. But all the more reason to tell you." She shrugged. "That ought to rile the boys in the control room up. What would you like to know?"

This wasn't right. It was too easy. Even Harlock, who always kept a poker face around strangers, couldn't keep surprise from widening his eye. But he didn't understand Helmatier. She built her status on deception as well as death. There was no way she would hand over true information so easily. She had some sort of ulterior motive, and even if she did tell the truth, I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it.

For the moment, I kept my mouth shut. Speaking what was on my mind could give too much away, and judging by what she said, she wasn't the only one listening to our questions.

Harlock at least knew well enough to be suspicious. "Why are you so willing to hand over information when no one else would?" he asked.

"You didn't exactly ask Bainas, did you?" she asked through a laugh. "And Marina would never break a vow of silence, so I suppose you're referring to Zero. Regardless, my reason for telling you is that I have nothing to lose. I work for Gaia because it's fun, not because I care. I have no desire to hide their dirty secrets from the world. This will end with either both of you or me dead. There is no other outcome. Even if I win, I see no reason not to give you the answers you seek before you die. Besides." A slow, wicked grin spread across her lips. "I'm certain your reactions to the information will be entertaining enough."

I heard a soft huff of breath from Harlock as he crossed his arms, barring himself for whatever came next. "If that is your required payment, so be it. Tell me everything you know of this mission."

Her eyes rolled to their corners. "Such a broad request," she sighed. "I'll give you the short version. I'd rather we dueled sooner than later. Part of the reason for this mission, as you heard from Zero, is Gaia's disapproval of failure. They don't want anyone to know how much time, manpower, and money went into the initial assassination mission, only for little Yama to blow the whole thing up in their faces." Her shoulders bounced with a chuckle. I was certain I would have felt irritated if not for the anxiety rolling through my stomach.

"The public only saw a piece of Gaia's disgrace – their failure with Yama," she continued. "The other assassins were intended as backup upon the death of the first or second, however many it took to get the job done. But when your first assassin joins the ranks of the enemy, it is difficult to sneak another in undercover."

"I understand they were trained to kill me," Harlock said, "but sending all of you in like this is reckless. Gaia is wiping out some of their best."

Helmatier frowned as though he'd offended her. "Like I said, that was only a piece of their reasoning. The other issue was how some of their 'best' reacted to a fellow assassin switching sides, Zero especially."

My heart hammered from my chest to my fingertips, blood roaring in my ears. I didn't want to hear this. I couldn't be sure why, but part of me demanded I stop listening. Even so, I couldn't move or speak.

Helmatier merely shrugged. "How was he supposed to react when his precious nephew was swayed in such a way? He started questioning his orders more than Gaia was willing to put up with. Zero was one of the public's favorite generals. It would have been devastating for Gaia if he starting bringing these concerns of his to the people. Of course, if the villain Captain Harlock - or heaven-forbid Zero's own nephew - happened to kill him, the public would only find greater reason to listen to what Gaia has to say about you pirates."

The room felt like a furnace, or maybe I was heating up from the inside. I couldn't think. My hands trembled from the burning anger. "Yama," Harlock murmured. "Breathe."

I released a shaking breath as he spoke over me. "So they ordered him on this mission to silence him?"

"Or to kill one of you to prove his loyalty." Helmatier eyed me with interest. I was giving her the reaction she wanted, and that only made it more difficult to bottle my anger. She smiled once more as she continued, watching me like a cat taunting its prey. "Zero was the type of man to say no to such an order, even at the cost of his position, but he'd made Gaia very desperate. They took his wife and child hostage, demanding he take the mission in exchange for their lives."

Confusion didn't appear to be the reaction Helmatier wanted, but for all my anger, I couldn't work my way around such an issue with her story. "Warrius was…married?" I felt myself ask.

"Yes," she drawled. "It happened after you left. You know, that woman he was dating who looked like Marina. They had a child together too." Helmatier appeared to be growing bored with the topic of conversation, but now I had to hear more.

"I have a cousin?" I demanded. Warrius said something like that, that I wasn't the last one left. There were others. Maybe I would never meet them, but at least-

"Not anymore," Helmatier said. "I doubt Gaia would keep witnesses. Maybe they let the baby live, but the woman is gone by now for sure."

I couldn't breathe. My lungs were gone along with everything else. I felt like an empty husk standing there.

"What about the rest of the assassins?" Harlock's voice was more rushed than it ever should have been. He sounded desperate.

Helmatier curled a strand of her hair around her finger. "Oh, Marina and Bainas didn't need to be blackmailed. They just wanted to bring you down for their own reasons. Of course, Marina agreed to go first to damage your ship, and the order from there was based on who volunteered. I was supposed to be third, but you warped while I was already on the way to your position. Zero was sent in my stead."

"No," Harlock snapped. "The others, the other three – are they coming? Are they being blackmailed?"

"I don't care," she said. Her hand went to her saber. "I've talked enough. Maybe you'll find out if you live. Let's get to the duel."

Harlock inhaled sharply as he grabbed his saber. "If you insist," he said. Anger scratched through his voice. "Do you have any particular style or rules you'd like observed?"

Helmatier smiled as usual. "When I say go, we fight." She offered no salute, only slipping into a fighting stance.

"Yama," Harlock hissed. "Your gun."

I blinked, removing the glaze from my eye. My mind was reeling, emotions mixing and warping before I could grasp one to hold onto, yet at the same time I felt empty. I knew I had to fight. Helmatier had to die. I closed my eye as I removed the clasp over my gun. If I wanted to be of any use, I needed to focus. I needed one thing to hold onto.

I would protect Harlock. I would fight with him, and he would make it out of this alive.

Though my left hand wouldn't be of much use in aiming, I could still pull a trigger. All I needed was one good shot. I would not fail because I couldn't let Gaia win.

For Harlock.

For Warrius.

"Go." The word seemed to hang in empty air. As I opened my eye, Helmatier and Harlock leapt forward. This put Harlock between me and my target. My only choice was to make a run for the side of them, keeping an arc between us so as not to end up in the crossfire.

Helmatier's strikes connected with speed and fury. Harlock remained defensive, his eye flashing to catch each blow. I could only imagine he was learning her style before he made a move of his own, unless he was giving me an opening to attack. Their blades clashing beat in a faster rhythm than my feet against the floor. Sparks flashed as Helmatier sliced her saber across his, a mad smirk on her face.

No matter how I ran, I couldn't seem to find her side. Helmatier's circling steps kept Harlock following her. Had my right hand been working, I would have felt comfortable with a shot over his shoulder, but with my left, I couldn't guarantee I wouldn't hit him. I fought down the urge to yell at him to stay put, my eye finding a fighter instead. Some elevation would do the trick. Putting the barrel of my gun between my teeth, I grabbed a rung on the ladder of the nearest fighter.

"Where do you think you're going?" Helmatier called.

I looked her way and Harlock looked mine, but Helmatier only had eyes for the prey in front of her. Though Harlock's attention was only gone for a glance, that was all she needed. The handle of her saber slammed into his gut. My scream was muffled by my gun as Harlock struggled to regain his defense. He tried to step back out of her range, but her blade flashed up.

From my position, I couldn't see what was happening. I could only see Harlock's back, but I knew he hadn't managed a block. No metallic clash rang through the air. Tactics be damned, I let go of the ladder to rip my gun from my teeth and ran his way. Even if she gutted me, if I was close enough, I could shoot her. I just needed Harlock safe and out of the way first.

"Helmatier!" I roared, raising my gun. I caught a flash of her grin as she dashed out from behind Harlock, giving me an opening.

My shot cut through her hair as it flowed out behind her. "You're making this too easy," she said. In a single leap, she brought herself close enough to lash her saber against my outstretched gun. It was the same move she used in training, one I should have known to avoid. Now even my good hand wasn't good. A fresh slice ate against my palm as my gun clattered across the floor. Defenseless, my body forced me to step back. My mind screamed at me to get away, but she sank to a crouch. Her foot shot out and swept under mine.

I heard Harlock yell my name before the floor met my back. It was just like the last duel. I heard Marina's advice ringing through my head once again, telling me to avoid remaining on my back. But before I could roll away, the heel of Helmatier's boot appeared in my shoulder.

My eye rolled back into my skull as she twisted her heel into the bullet wound. It felt like a knife, the warmth of fresh blood welling up. My shoulder pulsed with heat and pain. The cool tip of her saber against my neck was almost soothing in comparison.

"You two are such fools," Helmatier laughed. I forced my vision forward to find Harlock frozen in place a few paces away. His saber was raised halfway, his shoulders trembling. A bloody gash ran from his right hip to his left shoulder. Though his expression was screwed up in rage, his eye shone with fear.

Oh.

I was going to die in front of him like this without having done a damn thing. I would die on my back, pathetic and writhing.

"All this worrying about each other, protecting each other," Helmatier snarled, "and look what it's gotten you. It makes you weak."

I just wanted to shut her up. With her eyes on Harlock, I grabbed her heel and jerked myself into a roll. "Son of a bitch," she hissed, jamming her saber down as she struggled to find balance.

The tip of her blade was no longer pointed at my neck. It found my eye instead, or what was left of the right one at least. With my head turned to the side, the tip dug through my eyepatch, over the ridge of my nose and across my forehead. As the tip met the floor, the blade vibrated against the slice through my face. The pain there was sharp, but it couldn't compare to Helmatier's heel tearing from the hole in my shoulder.

A shudder tore through me, but I had no patience for my body's weakness. The moment I pushed myself upright, blood from the cut in my forehead poured into my eye. I saw through a thick film of red. Somewhere to my right, sabers clashed once again. I didn't care about how close I was to danger. I had to do something to help Harlock. Smearing the blood from my vision, I searched for my gun.

"Careless!" Helmatier barked. I heard a sickening crunch, like the splintering of bone. My heart felt like it was bleeding in my chest, a gaping hole torn through it. But I couldn't look back. I had to get my gun.

I spotted it to my left and launched myself that way by pushing off my toes and practically tackling it. My palm stung against my strangling hold against it. I raised it blindly, blood filling my eye again. My right shoulder seemed to have a mind of its own, jerking my arm into fits as I forced my right hand up to wipe the blood away.

The fight in front of me continued as it had started. Helmatier didn't give Harlock a moment's rest with her brutal assault, and he was forced into defensive tactics. It was easy to see what had broken, as even from my skewed angle I could tell his nose was crooked. Blood spilled from it, running in a steady stream over his lips.

My hand refused to hold still enough for a clean shot. Trying to steady it with my right arm only made things worse. "Harlock!" I yelled. "Move!"

He did, launching himself out of the way, but so did Helmatier. I tried to follow her with my aim, but the shot flew harmlessly away to the fighter behind her. "Still haven't learned a thing," she taunted as I shot off a reckless slew of blasts. She danced away from them and closer to me.

Like a pan on a stove top, my gun burned through my glove until the inevitable slapped me in the face. The trigger jammed against me. The gun overheated. It would cool down, but not before Helmatier could stab me through the chest.

On my knees, I had little hope of dodging, but I'd be damned if I would sit there and let myself die. She rushed toward me as she realized her chance, but she was forced to bring up her saber before she was in range. Harlock's blade bit against hers, his stance wide open as he stood between us. That idiot was protecting me again, and he was going to get himself killed.

"I'm fine!" I yelled, jumping to my feet. "Get out of there!"

Before I could finish the order, Helmatier's foot came up and cracked against his kneecap. He stumbled back a step, his leg bucking out from under him. He managed to keep himself from going down, but we all knew he had no chance of keeping up with her now.

Helmatier glanced between each of us with a smile on her face. "Pathetic," she sighed. "And here I was hoping for a good fight."

My gun's trigger still resisted me. I could only hope she felt like rambling a bit longer.

"I hate stooping to the level of fighters like you," Harlock growled. His voice was crunched like his nose. "Such low tricks have no place in a duel, but you've given me no reason to respect you."

"Are you stalling?" she asked. "How shameful. Well, I've made up my mind then."

She spun on me, ready to cut me down. I could have moved, but I found myself staring at Harlock through that haze of red. He seemed to move before her, and his reach surpassed hers.

I wanted Helmatier dead. I did, but I couldn't say I was happy to see her end. Harlock grabbed a fistful of her hair, jerking her back toward him. She and I saw the tip of Harlock's saber against her eye, but the blood in mine mercifully hid the rest as I glanced away.

I heard a body fall to the floor, but I didn't dare look up. My breaths stuttered in and out of my throat. Nausea hit me like a wall, the scent of blood overwhelming around me. A cold sweat built across my skin.

"Yama," Harlock said.

A laugh trilled from my lips at the sound of his voice. "God, we need to get your nose fixed," I twittered.

His hobbled steps neared me, and I realized his knee had to be broken. I let the blood stay in my eye, not wanting to see the damage covering him, not wanting to see Helmatier with a saber through her head. I kept my eye shut tight and hid from the reality around me.

I could feel Harlock standing in front me, his presence like a shadow. "Yama," he whispered. "Breathe." His hand shook as it settled on my cheek. He brushed the blood away with his thumb, barely seeming to touch my sticking lashes.

I didn't want to breathe. I wanted to let lightheadedness overtake me, but I forced air through my lungs for him. Opening my stinging eye, I looked up to his face. His nose was smashed and crooked, and blood coated his mouth. Still, it was the same face I memorized minutes before, though surely that was hours ago.

"We're alive," I said. I felt as though I'd just realized it. We made it but not unscathed. I hadn't done a thing to protect him. I only got in the way, and he paid the price for it. All those wounds were my fault.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine. I couldn't mind the sting from my cut. I had him close, and that was all that mattered. "Yes, Yama," he said. "Hang in there. We're going to be alright."

I wanted to believe him. Sure, all his wounds would heal along with mine. This was the end. We would be alright.

Maybe.

* * *

**So spoilers I guess if you didn't see my last author's note, but the current plan is to set this to an M rating when the next chapter is posted. It's funny to me that both my ongoing fics at the moment are set to have smut chapters next. We'll see if I chicken out though. **

**And as always, thanks to my reviewers. You're all real sweet and my favorites. Make sure to do something nice for yourself today. **


	8. Flush

**Maybe smut isn't the best word for the scene in this chapter, but the term "lime" is so outdated. Well, all my smut is M rather than E. Besides, you shouldn't have expected anything too exciting given the circumstances. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the extra-long chapter. It got a bit out of hand.**

* * *

Kei wrapped our wounds the same way she might tie up an enemy. The tugging and jerking was made worse by the sticky strips of waterproof bandages. "You two reek of blood and sweat," she said in explanation, though I couldn't be sure it wasn't for further punishment. "Once we're done here, you better go shower off."

I couldn't muster the energy to mind her assault. Even my wounds were too tired to hurt. They throbbed with dull pulses of pain except my ever-stinging broken nose. I would need to be more wary of elbows from now on.

Even Yama said nothing against Kei's rough treatment of his shoulder. According to the doctor, the added damage was minimal, and he would regain both his hands soon. For now, the right still dangled in a sling, while the left sported fresh bandages. His face took the worst of the damage, leading the doctor to endless curses when the bleeding refused to quit.

"It's a good thing I was already missing that eye, so no harm done really," Yama joked during the procedure. The doctor threatened to tranquilize him for it.

We were both allowed to remain conscious, though having my knee reset threatened to knock me out even after it was numbed. After everything, a steaming shower didn't sound all that bad, but there was one last thing I needed from the overworked doctor, even after Kei finished her form of bedside manner.

"There," she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. My chest somehow felt worse wrapped, but I didn't argue. Once we forced our aching bodies into the light sleep clothes she brought us, Kei looked down her nose at the two of us. We sat on the edge of an infirmary bed, Yama held up against my shoulder. "You two are idiots," she said.

I nodded, and Yama hummed his agreement. "Absolute morons," he muttered. His eye stared off into nothing, and I wondered if he might fall asleep on me. After pawing between us for a moment, his hand found mine. He clasped his fingers around my palm, and I returned his grasp. If Kei felt any reaction to our show of affection, she didn't let us see.

After a half-dozen yawns from Yama, the doctor emerged from the icy back room. It was as much of a morgue as the small space could be, and Yama wanted nothing to do with it. I had little issue waiting in there as the doctor performed autopsies, but neither Yama nor Kei had the stomach for it.

Kei wrinkled her nose as the doctor strolled to the sink, his gloves coated with blood. He held a small bundle of what appeared to be wires in one hand. It was difficult to tell through all the gore. "I got something," he reported. "It was hooked up in her head, really embedded in there. It ran from her eye to her ear. There's a good deal of damage to it from that hole you put in her head, Captain, and I'm no expert on these things, so I can't properly say what it is." As he spoke, he rinsed it in the sink along with his hands.

"It sounds like the more complex version of what they put in my eye," Yama sighed. "It must send audio data too. It might even receive audio and visual."

"What's the matter with an old-fashion headset?" Kei asked, her lip curled in disgust. "It's not like these ones needed to hide their connection with Gaia."

Yama's brow pinched. "I guess it doesn't get in the way when they fight. Plus, those are usually programmed more for observing, so they can take in specs on different subjects. They may have used the assassins to analyze Harlock's fighting styles."

Kei stalked over to the device as the doctor dumped it in a tray. She looked at it as though it might bite her. "But if it was sending and receiving information, that means I may be able to track it," she muttered. "I suppose I'll take it and analyze it as best I can. It looks a bit fried though."

"I believe it was hooked up to her brain function as well," the doctor said. "It may have self-destructed at the time of her death."

"I may still be able to work with it." She looked back our way, her arms folded across her chest. "Yama, do you think the other assassins will come as well?"

He took a deep breath, his eye heavy as he looked down to our hands. "It's difficult to say. If they do come, they may not need to be blackmailed into it. They wouldn't come just for glory, but it's possible they could be bribed."

"Bribed into a mission with such a high death rate?" Kei huffed. "There's such stupidity in greed."

His frown deepened. "I wouldn't call them greedy. The financial reward for completing the mission was high, sure, but most of the group wasn't from Mars or any other well-off planets. From what I know, most of them were hoping to use the money to move their families to a better planet. I guess I can't quite blame them for wanting us dead with a reward like that."

Kei's boots struck the floor with a vengeance as she returned to smack at Yama's cheek. "Quit the moping. You don't get to die for anything, you or Grumpy Sr. over here." I could only blink as she pointed my way. "Things are bad for everyone everywhere, and that's why we need to be alive. We're going to change things."

Yama breathed a laugh, returning her sure smile. "Yes, ma'am," he said.

She appeared satisfied, though she gave his cheek a final smack for good measure. "Luckily for you, I'm here," she said. "I have a theory I might like to test out. If I'm right, we may be able to mess with Gaia's plans a little."

"How so?" I asked.

"They must be sending out the assassins from the same relay points, right? And since there's no big Gaia stations in this area, it must be either a ship or a small satellite and most likely the same one that device relays to. That means if we take out that point, we could at least put this nonsense plan on hold for the time being. And even if that is the last of the assassins, taking out that relay station can't hurt."

"But if the assassins are there and you destroy the relay point…" Yama gnawed his lip to avoid finishing the sentence.

"I'm not going to go out there and massacre everyone, but I'll do what I have to if it comes to that. It would be best if Gaia didn't know what we're up to, so I'd like to take a team out to look for the relay point rather than the ship itself, considering its condition." Her sharp eyes bored into me. "Do I have your permission for that, Captain?"

It would be cheap to use her tactic to buy us more time, but with that time we could finish repairs. At this point I was willing to throw away my pride for Yama's sake. Because of my condition, he would try to take the next fight. Our luck wouldn't hold out forever. If we were going to face the last of the assassins, I wanted an even playing field. I wanted time to recover. They would fight me fairly, and Yama would take no part in harming any more of his friends.

"Very well," I said. "You can take the cruiser and as many others as you see fit, but for now let's hope we've seen the last of them."

"They've really worn you out, Captain," she sighed despite her smile. "You're supposed to tell us to be prepared for the worst. Go cool down in the showers for a while, and then get some rest. I'll examine the transmitter in the meantime."

For all Yama's exhaustion, he jumped up and started for the door without further questions. I worried my decision may have upset him and snatched the crutches from the wall to follow. The doctor would kill me if I put any weight on my knee for now. The cast around it allowed it to bend to certain degrees, but there was still a great risk of damaging it further. I rushed after him on three legs, my bad knee slightly bent and brushing my toes against the floor.

"Yama?" I prodded as I neared him. The clicking of the crutches with each step was already getting on my nerves.

Yama looked irritable as well, so much so I expected him to snap at me. "Finally," he huffed. "I get to actually clean myself off. I am so itchy!" As if to prove his point, he scratched his fingers through his hair in a frenzy. "I'm going to use the big tile bath. I don't care if anyone else is in there. It's mine."

I could deal with him being irritable about hygiene. The doctor and Kei cleaned the blood from our wounds, but it was true I hadn't bothered with a shower in days. I never used the baths, but standing on one leg in the shower didn't sound all that appealing.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked.

"I'll probably have to bathe you considering all those injuries. Can't have you hurting yourself." If the smile was any indication, he was joking, which was disappointing.

"I would appreciate the help," I said.

He muttered something about how I wasn't supposed to agree, his ears reddening as he stalked the rest of the way to the baths. I didn't visit them much because of the personal bathroom in my cabin, but the men kept them as messy as I remembered. Towels and soaps were strewn about the room lined with sinks. Yama grabbed us a couple clean towels and robes from the cabinet as I weaved around the mess.

The tile tub was the largest of the baths, each separated into different rooms. Unlike those, it was deep blue and square in shape. It was made to be shared, but Yama punched in the code to lock the door behind us.

"Is that alright?" I asked. It seemed strange not to know the rules on my own ship, but this was not my territory.

He shrugged. "I don't think anyone comes here in the middle of the day. Besides, those bastards lock it all the time. It's my turn to hog it." The command pad responded with beeps as he tapped out his desired temperature, and then the faucets roared to life. It almost seemed like a waste to use so much water just for the two of us, even if it was saltwater.

Still, it was hypnotic watching the water swirl into small whirlpools as the tub filled, but that may have been my body's exhaustion getting to me. Even when Yama stepped in front of me, I found it difficult to tear my eye from the water. He fixed that by pushing himself up on his toes, putting his hand on the back of my neck and wrenching me down into a kiss.

Before I could react, he'd pulled away. His eye swam with worry as he looked toward our feet. I could feel his hand trembling despite his grip on me. "Yama," I attempted, but he cut me off with another kiss. This time I was able to return it, bending down toward him to ease him from his toes. My crutches fell away to clatter against the floor as I reached out and tugged his waist closer. He broke away with a gasp, tense as a coiled spring under my hands.

"Yama," I breathed, leaning in to kiss his jaw. "It's alright, Yama. We're alright." Even though my nose stung every time it brushed his skin, I trailed kisses up his jaw to his lips, catching them once again.

He shook against me like my touch was ice. Hesitantly, his hands settled on my shoulders, and he began to part his lips. But it was my turn to pull back. A soft noise of disappointment left him, even as I paused a mere breath away.

"You're not going to hurt me," I said.

"You almost died, Harlock," he sighed.

"But I didn't."

"But you were injured." His grip tightened on my shoulders. "Because of me."

My brows pinched, and I bumped my forehead against his. I'd intended it to gently knock some sense into him, but he hissed in pain. Oh, I'd forgotten about the cut there.

He took a quick step back out of my grasp, and his heel smacked into the wall of the tub. I started to apologize, but his eye went wide, and suddenly he was falling over backward.

My attempt to catch him almost worked. I grabbed the front of his shirt, but it slipped through my fingers as the artificial gravity yanked him down into the water. Just as it swallowed him, he shot up from it with a gasp. His legs remained the only dry part of him, hanging over the tub's edge.

"How did you manage that?" I asked, fighting back a smile.

He glared up at me from what was visible of his eye, soaked hair plastered down over his bandages. "I tripped," he grumbled. Though he looked ready to punch me, he took the hand I offered him.

"While you are talented, you're not the cause of my injuries," I continued on my original intent as I yanked him upright. His unreliable feet led him to stumble into me. "I should have been more careful. What happened to me was my fault."

He soaked through my shirt with his own, water droplets rolling down his cheeks from his hair. "You were trying to protect me," he snapped.

"And so what if I was? I was still too careless, and my injuries are my own. Honestly, I have no excuse for letting Helmatier elbow me in the nose." I was certain he would try arguing more, always too stubborn to let anyone else take the blame. If he really wanted to argue more, we could do it when I didn't feel like falling asleep on him. For the moment, I took hold of his chin and led him to kiss me again.

He breathed a huff through his nose but pressed himself closer. This time I parted my lips as he did. He was always content to lead a kiss, toying with my tongue and tracing along my teeth. I fought back by peeling his shirt from his skin. He allowed us to break apart as I pulled it over his head. I fumbled with getting it around his shoulder sling, so he took over removing it.

"You too," he demanded, tugging at my shirt once his was thrown away. I pulled it off for him, and he frowned at the bandages across my chest.

"I'll be more careful next time," I said as I tossed my shirt away.

He growled around my attempts to begin another kiss. "There had better not be a next time."

It seemed he had a bit of pent-up anger. We would have to remedy that. "There's always a next time with me." I smiled with my lips against his, slipping my thumbs into the hem of his pants.

He sighed as the bruising kiss began again. This time I took to memorizing the feel of his tongue twirling with mine. I breathed his air and tasted the heat of his mouth. I couldn't tell if he was trying to growl or purr as I freed his hips to open air, but he stepped out of his pants when they fell, kicking them away. Between short gasps for breath, he tugged my pants and boxers away as well. With the rest of the room so cold, his skin was like fire against mine. I pulled his body flush to me for warmth.

"Let's actually get into the bath," he said through laugh. As he spoke, his nose bumped mine, and I couldn't hold back a wince. Unfortunately he noticed. "Right, we can't do anything to agitate your wounds." He took a step back, looking as disappointed as I felt.

"Well, I wouldn't say we can't do anything," I muttered.

"There just aren't many…positions that wouldn't put a strain on your injuries." The tips of his ears burned pink under tangled strands of hair. "I don't know that any of those will work in the bath." He stepped over the wall of the tub this time, his hand around mine to drag me with him.

"We could wait for the bed." Then again, maybe not. As I tried to think of a position we could get away with, my mind wandered a bit too much to remain patient.

The color in Yama's ears bled to his cheeks as he noticed me looking over his naked form. There were scars here and there, and the sling covered more than I liked, but I could still appreciate his pale, smooth skin. He was so lean that clothes hid the muscle in his frame, but now I could see everything. At least, I could until he dropped himself into the water to hide.

I had to place my hands on the tub's edge and pull myself over, unable to put weight on one knee. The water was so hot I swore it was cooking me alive as I settled in. But the stinging burn of it ate away the coating of sweat on my skin. Heat spread through my body until I leaned back against the tub's edge with a sigh. I could have fallen asleep in there.

"Can't stay in too long or we'll overheat," Yama said as if realizing my intentions. He lathered shampoo through his hair, humming his contentment. I watched him until he dipped himself underwater, popping back up freshly soaked. After shaking himself free of water, he opened his eye to find me still staring at him. "When I said I would wash you, I didn't mean I'd do everything," he huffed. Grabbing a cup from the tub's edge, he filled it with water and dumped it over my head.

At least I didn't have to submerge myself this way. "I didn't realize this was going to become a repeated occurrence with us," I said, my wet hair like a wall in front of my eye.

He laughed much like he had last time he doused my head with water. "You bring it upon yourself," he said.

Before I could jest in return, I felt his legs slip around mine. His knees pressed to each side of my thighs as he brushed the hair from my eye. He was so close, close enough to lean in and catch with a kiss. I was too aware of every touch of his feverish skin against mine. I craved more of it.

His lips brushed mine, violently warm. "I don't feel like waiting for the bed," he breathed. "I'm not as patient as you, old man."

"I can't say I'm patient enough either." Placing my hand to his cheek, I leaned in for another kiss. He obliged me.

Somehow his tongue was even hotter than his skin. The warmth lulled us into sluggish movements. When we were drunk, kissing was more like a battle than a dance. It was a clash of teeth and tongues stemming from pent-up anger and worry.

This was sleepy and soothing, but it somehow warmed me up even more. My skin began to crawl with a need for friction. I wanted him against me purring my name. My hands slipped to his hips, which twisted in the water along to the exploration of our tongues.

He broke away panting. "Okay, okay," he gasped. "Move away from the wall a little."

I did as I was told, entranced by the weight of lust in his eye. His legs circled me, and he pressed himself as flush as he could to my chest with the sling between us. Whatever he was doing, it had me feeling like the horny brat I was back in my academy days. When his cock touched mine, it felt like a jolt of electricity shot through me. He bit down whatever sounds attempted to claw up his throat, his fingers digging into my back. It took all of my self-control not to drag him closer and grind against him.

"This is kind of weird, isn't it?" he asked airily.

"Is it?" That didn't sound good, but my worry eased as he leaned in to nuzzle my neck.

"We've only ever done things like this when drunk. But it…it feels better like this, even if we can't go all the way." He raised his hips to rub himself against me, a gasp tearing from his throat. "It feels so good being with you."

I couldn't take much more of it, his touch and the deep pleasure in his voice. Reaching between us, I wrapped my hand around both our lengths and began to stroke us together. The resistance of the water was a bit of a hassle, but Yama didn't seem to mind. His spine stiffened, his tongue almost lolling from his mouth as he panted. His hips writhed, adding to the friction between us.

I couldn't bite back a groan at the heat and pulses of pleasure shooting up through my core. As much as I wanted to be inside him commanding his hips in a harsh rhythm, this was so good I couldn't consider stopping. Every sound he made seemed to set off a fire in my head. I couldn't think clearly beyond a drive to bring him bliss. I kissed and bit from his shoulder to the side of his neck until he eagerly gasped my name.

"Faster," he begged, locking his ankles behind me to pull himself closer. He didn't leave much room for my hand to move, but I couldn't deny him what he asked.

"Yama," I sighed, in love with the sound of his name, in love with everything about him. My chest began to tighten to the point of aching. I placed more gentle love bites to the crook of his neck, wanting him to feel the pain drowning me as well.

"Harlock," he gasped as he buried his face in my shoulder. "I love you."

"And I love you," I moaned, my back arching toward him. "I feel amazing with you."

A soft whimper and a jagged gasp left him just before his release. And with him trembling, holding himself to me, I fell over the edge moments behind him. Warmth roared through me, my pulse twitching in my fingertips. I could still feel everywhere his skin touched mine. It was all I wanted.

Unfortunately, he did pull away enough to allow some breathing room between us. Still, it was nice to see him with the glow of a flush to his skin and his chest heaving. "We should get cleaned off before we overheat," he mumbled.

I couldn't say I wasn't already overheated, but I was content to work some soap into a lather on my hands and run them over every inch of skin I could touch. He shuddered as I reached his chest and stomach, his brows knitted. "No more right now," he scolded. "We'll get to the bed first. I can do more there."

"I thought you were the impatient one," I said with a grin.

Pursing his lips, he covered his hands in soap to torture me as well. I only wished my bandages weren't in the way so he could reach everything. Gloves kept his hands free of calluses, and his skin felt like velvet against mine. I certainly could have fallen asleep there. He kept me from it with a tempting kiss before he slipped away and out of the water.

"Come on," he said, tugging on his robe. "It will be much more comfortable in the bed, and I can do a lot more for you there."

He helped me out and fluffed my hair dry with a towel as I slipped into my robe. Once my hair was thoroughly a mess, I took his towel and did the same to him. "You'll tire yourself out if you do everything for me," I said. I wasn't an invalid.

He peered at me through the folds of white terrycloth with a mischievous smile. "I'll make sure if anyone is tired out by the end of this, it'll be you," he hummed. Pushing up to his toes, he stole another kiss before I could react. He tried to sneak away after that, but my arms caught him by the waist. I pulled him in for a proper kiss that he laughed into.

For all our taunting, we fell asleep not long after making it to the bed. But that was fine. As long as I had him close, the ache in my chest eased. For now, he was safe in my arms. For now, there were no assassins or wars. There was only him in my oversized sleep clothes, smelling sweetly of shampoo and soap.

I woke to him tugging free of my arms, so I pulled him back. I kissed his temple despite the bandages covering much of it, content to be able to kiss him. "Your stubble is all scratchy," he mumbled. If he'd truly been awake, he may not have lain there with me for so long. The minutes ticked by as he slipped in and out of a doze.

Having him there with me under the mess of blankets was so warm, almost too much. I felt close to sweating, and my arm was starting to fall asleep with him lying on it, yet I couldn't bring myself to move. If I moved, it might disturb his sleeping face, framed by messy frays of hair.

Of course, his eye couldn't fall closed with every bleary rouse. One was finally the end of it, and his eye stayed open. "Need coffee or I'll sleep too long," he slurred, rolling out of my grasp. As he shuffled out, I was forced to get up as well. Once I was dressed and freshly shaved, he returned in his uniform, with the tangles brushed from his hair. He took the bottle of wine from my hand and stuck it back in the cabinet. "Breakfast," he said.

"That was breakfast."

"No."

Even with an excess of sleep, he wasn't much of a morning person.

His breakfast consisted mostly of coffee, while I poked at eggs. The galley steadily filled with half-awake men, most too tired to be startled by my rare presence there. When the doctor arrived, he insisted on checking over our injuries. This did interest the men. They craned their necks to see. Yama glared in return, even as he was freed from his sling.

"It still hurts to move my arm," he said as we made our way to the bridge. "But I can move it. The doctor said the pain should go away."

"What about your prosthetic fingers?" I asked.

"It's a bit strange. I can feel them, but I can't _feel_ them, you know? I can feel them moving but not when they touch things, and they're a bit cold." He reached up and brushed them against the back of my neck. The metal was like ice, sending a shiver down my spine. Yama grinned at his achievement. I would have to watch out for this mischievous side of his.

"There you are," Kei huffed as we stepped onto the bridge. "Listen, I managed to track the relay point used with the device in Helmatier's head. Our scans can't pick anything up in that area because there's an asteroid field."

"You want to go check it?" I asked. Of course she did. Her curiosity would never be sated otherwise.

"I've already got my team picked out. We'll take the Gullwing and use an indirect route." At some point she had learned to find the disapproval in my eye. "I'll take a cloaking field and everything, Captain. At least let me scout the place. I won't interfere with it. You gave me permission for this already. I won't let you back out now."

I had no choice but to nod. "Be careful, and stay in contact. Don't rush into anything."

"If anyone needs that advice It should probably be you two. Don't do anything too stupid while I'm gone." She threw a quick hug around Yama. His eye was wide as he returned it. Once she released him, she headed for the door, offering me a lazy salute. I mirrored it for her.

"We'll behave, Kei. Come back safely."

"Got it, Captain."

Without her, the bridge was quiet. There were the beeps and hums of the computers, and the men taking their stations offered some chatter, but the room still managed to feel empty. I'd grown too accustomed to her bouts of banter with Yama. For now, he stole my chair. He lounged in it as though he owned the thing. I was forced to take his usual seat, as standing on crutches was beginning to wear out my shoulders.

Time passed, and the silence remained. All the other assassins had shown up by midday, but we went to eat lunch without anything appearing on radar. Yama took every possible opportunity to dance his metal pinky along any exposed skin, tracing my ear or cheek. It was easy to see the fear in his eye beneath the mask of amusement, so I gave him the reactions he wanted, anything to help him relax.

After lunch, he was polite enough to return my chair to me. He took Kei's position, resting his elbows against the quiet radar panel. I tried to force myself into relaxation, telling myself this was the end. We'd won. There was nothing else to fear.

And as dinner neared, I began to believe it.

Perhaps Yama did as well, and that was why his skin paled to a ghostly pallor as the radar returned a ping. The casual chatter on the bridge all stopped at once. As I stared at Yama, taking in the terror in his eye, I wondered why I should keep those morals of giving a fair duel when Gaia wouldn't offer me the same in return. If Yama was correct, and these final assassins were being bribed, I would simply have to lock them in the brig until my injuries were gone. That would give us equal footing. That would keep Yama from further harm. I didn't care if it was cowardly. I couldn't see Yama suffer through another duel.

"They're requesting a communication line," he breathed, his voice trembling. As he rose to his feet, I worried he might collapse at any moment. These assassins were destroying him.

He tapped out the command to open the feed, and a young man flashed onto the overhead. He looked perhaps a few years older than Yama, with neat brunet hair and a cap similar to Zero's. That was all I was able to take in as he flashed an eager smile. "Yama!" he greeted, and the feed cut off with Yama's hand slamming onto his console.

Yama's lips were pinched into a thin line, his cheeks bright pink. Everyone on the bridge looked to him in silence, unsure what to do. "Shoot it down," he said. "Do it. Shoot it down now."

Now the men seemed even less sure what to do, myself included. I felt the need to ask something, but I couldn't think of what. "What's the matter, Yama?" one of the men joked with an uneasy laugh. "That your ex or something?"

Yama remained frozen in place. Even his eye didn't stray from the console in front of him, but the blush burned across his face in a brilliant scarlet. The quiet room seemed to strangle with silence.

I couldn't say I was surprised by the revelation of Yama having an ex-boyfriend. It was perfectly reasonable. I wasn't even surprised by his ex being one of the assassins. After all, they spent a good deal of time together in training.

What did startle me was just how attractive that boy on the overhead was, now that I thought about it. Perhaps the reason I hobbled over to Yama's console and turned the feed back on was to get a better look at the young man. Yes, he was certainly attractive, like the sort of young man you might see shirtless in a magazine. Yama couldn't bring himself to look at him. I wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Hello again," he said at length, his hand raised in greeting. "So, Yama, it looks like you failed your mission, eh?" He gestured to me, still grinning. Then, clearing his throat, he began reciting something as though he was on stage. "'_Success is counted sweetest, By those who ne'er succeed_.'"

I looked to Yama for an explanation, but he still had yet to move. My only choice was to turn back to the young man. "You know who I am, so might I ask your name?" I prompted.

"Yama didn't tell you about me?" He placed his hand to his chest as if heartbroken. "I suppose I should introduce myself then. I am Mamoru Kodai, assassin rank four. I'm here to see Yama and have a death fight. But first, I'm terribly curious. I've heard you two are banging. Is that right?"

"Shoot him down," Yama hissed.

* * *

**I'm just so fond of the romantic, playful version of Mamoru seen in the flashbacks of 2199. He is such a nerd. Very excited to write him in all his flirty nerd glory. **

**And thank you so much to my reviewers last chapter ages ago! So many reviews from so many nice people. You're all too sweet. I'm glad you're enjoying the fic.**


	9. Burn Card

**I am the official queen of melodrama, and I wear my crown with pride. **

**I hope I managed to catch any and all errors, but if you find one, know it was probably from my cat standing on my keyboard. **

* * *

I awoke to a pressure point in the middle of my forehead, maybe the barrel of a gun. But moving or fighting back sounded like too much work. I was too tired to be concerned with dying.

"Bang," someone said above me. Peeling my eyes open, I found a hand in the mock shape of a gun pointed at me. Mamoru drew it back with a grin. "Too late. You're already dead."

I answered with a hum, still too sleepy for speech. After three rounds of practice sparring in a row, my body had enough. It seemed I'd passed out as soon as I flopped down on the lounge couch. But as usual, Mamoru had no intentions of letting me sleep peacefully.

"So I guess you're on break then?" he asked. Those bright eyes of his gleamed with his usual eagerness. He was like a big puppy, impossible to discourage.

"I am," I sighed, "and I was having such a nice time too."

"And now you're having a better time." He placed his hands down on the cushion by my ears, blocking out the lights as he leaned over me. The couch dipped by my hip under the weight of his knee. He was so sure he was going to get away with this, the bastard.

"We're not doing this here," I hissed.

Rather than feel discouraged like a normal person, his grin widened. Despite my hands shoving against his shoulders, he pressed himself close enough to nuzzle my neck. "Why not?" The heat of his breath brushed across my skin. Keeping my voice even was a struggle.

"We're both dead if Warrius comes in, but especially you. No relationships during missions, remember?" The only rule broken more often was no drinking during missions. From the first day we arrived, Mamoru had his mind set on bedding me. The flirting was relentless. I had no choice but to give in.

"Your uncle is training the kid right now, so you have me all to yourself," he hummed.

"This is a bad idea." Even as I said it, I exposed more of my neck to him, his lips brushing up toward my jaw. Everything about being close to him was a bad idea, not only because we could get caught, but because I was starting to enjoy it.

"Please keep your private relationships in private," Marina said coolly to the chimes of mugs clinking in the cabinet.

I jolted upright so fast that I threw Mamoru back into the opposite arm of the couch. His face screwed up in disappointment, but he didn't look the least bit ashamed. Unlike him, my face felt aflame. "Sorry," I wheezed.

Marina might as well have walked in on us chatting about the weather, her expression flat with disinterest as she poured herself some coffee. "If you have the energy to play around in the lounge, you have the energy to continue training," she said.

Mamoru heaved a sigh despite the grin creeping onto his features. "Oh come on, Marina. He needs to have just a little energy to spare. Screwing around is good for morale and all that. At least, it gives me great inspiration." He placed his hand to his chest, and Marina's eyes narrowed. I leaned away from him, all too aware of what was coming.

"_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?_"

"No," Marina muttered into her mug. "I'll take the hint, but if I catch you again like this, Zero might just find out about it."

Mamoru's arm hooked around my neck, jerking me back to him as she stormed out. He snickered like the devil he was, his cheek pressed into my hair. My neck was twisted and cramped in the awkward position, but I couldn't bring myself to fight him.

"I really do want to go back to sleep," I sighed.

"You can nap in my room. I'll play you a sappy lullaby." He pulled an old harmonica from his pocket, waving it as though it was a threat. But I did love when he played it for me, even if everyone else complained about it. "And when you wake up full of energy," he continued, "we can pick up where we left off."

"Oh, you spoil me," I drawled, tugging away. He released me with another soft laugh. As I stood and stretched, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He watched me in return. His expression eased to a smile.

"Yama," he said at length. "Do you love me yet?"

I gave up on twisting the kinks from my back. Under the weight of his question, my lungs felt stuffed with cotton. Each breath came with effort. "No," I said around the catch in my throat. It was the only truth I had for him.

"I told you from the beginning – we can sleep together, but that's it. I have no feelings for you." My eyes shut against the lie as I forced it out. I hoped the more I said it, the truer it could become.

He made a slight noise of consideration as he stood. "I would say I'm starting to fall for you, but since I'm not allowed to, let's make a deal." He stuck out a hand despite my attempt to look as disapproving as possible. "If neither of us are picked up by the Arcadia, you'll let me take you out on a real date when we get back."

It was yet another bad idea. He was giving me something to hope for, something to look forward to, but I needed to board the Arcadia, and that most likely meant never seeing him again. And if the Arcadia picked him, then I would have nothing.

But I was brought to my knees by that gentle adoration warming in his eyes. I must have raised my hand, as I felt his close around it. He broke out into a grin. "And then you'll fall in love with me," he said.

"I'm not agreeing to that part."

As always, his smile stayed. Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to mine. I knew he'd start spouting off more of that damn poetry, lines that were never his own. Even Bainas groaned every time he recited something.

But when he was so close, whispering it to me, I couldn't keep a smile from itching at my lips.

_"I am mad with love," _he breathed._ "And no one understands my plight."_

I didn't love him. We weren't even friends. He was a distraction from training, nothing else. But he was a distraction I was always content to let myself fall into, and it made him dangerous.

* * *

I tried to convince Harlock to stay on the bridge, to just stay as far from Mamoru as possible and let me handle the situation.

In silence, he refused. I tried to push him away from the lift, but his feet remained planted. I tried to rush ahead of him in the hall, but he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and held me at his side. He didn't appear upset about the situation, but his expression was as placid as usual. I couldn't spot any of the usual ticks that gave away his feelings, no twitching fingers or wandering eye.

"He's a good person," I said as we neared the hangar, unsure what Harlock might think of Mamoru. "He's just a bit…"

Mamoru was a great many things, so many it was difficult to choose one adequate word. Harlock glanced my way as the door to the hangar slid open and I continued chewing on the thought. My only warning was watching his eye go wide before I felt Mamoru slam into me.

"Yama!" he cooed, his arms locked around my chest. "Did you miss me?"

With my ribs crushed into my lungs, I wheezed in response, while he buried his face in my hair.

I looked at Harlock to find his tensed hand hovering over his gun. His eye darted over Mamoru in cautious appraisal until I was released, held out at arm's length. Even then, Harlock only relaxed his hand enough to rest his wrist against the gun's handle.

As he looked me over, Mamoru's ever-brilliant smile faded. "They've really done a number on you, haven't they?" he sighed, brow pinched at the sight of the bandage slapped across my forehead.

I wanted to tell him he looked the same as always, but my throat swelled shut against me. He did look the same, but he also looked like he hadn't slept in days. His hair was an unkempt mess, deep bags like bruises beneath his eyes. It was the same way he'd looked the day we departed from the base, the day he pulled me into a desperate kiss and whispered how he'd see me again.

But I didn't want to see him again, not here, not like this.

His hand drifted up toward my cheek, but Harlock was faster. With a soft yelp, Mamoru was tugged off his feet like a mangy tabby being held by the scruff of the neck. Harlock swung him around and deposited him in the doorway. "Walk," Harlock ordered.

"We're not dueling here?"

"We're not dueling, not yet. We're going to talk somewhere first. Move."

If this was part of some plan, I wished I would have been informed about it. Glancing over his shoulder, Mamoru looked to me for answers, but I had none for him. I could only return his confusion.

"I guess if you want to chat a bit before the fight, we can," he said as he started forward. "I can even tell you some of Yama's kinks if you want."

He threw me a playful grin while I glared in return. I couldn't imagine how he was acting so calm about all of this, and the way he spoke about the duel made it seem as though he'd be taking on Harlock. Harlock, the man who tried to hide a cringe every time he leaned on his crutch, the man whose nose was still crooked, the man who was most definitely not going to be taking part in any more duels while I was still around.

Despite that, he seemed all too willing to go along with what Mamoru said. "I believe I know quite a few of his kinks, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Both of you, stop it," I hissed. As Mamoru snickered at my misfortune, I held my hands in tight fists at my sides, my right shoulder aching against me.

"It's really a shame," he sighed, strolling along with an easy gait. "I'm sure the three of us could have gotten along very well together. I'd much rather we'd shared a bed than a battlefield, you know?"

My hand found its way to my face, warm even against the heat spreading across my cheeks. From between my fingers, I peered over to see Harlock's brows raised. He didn't respond otherwise.

"Mamoru," I huffed. "This isn't the time for jokes."

He spun on his heel, grinning as he continued on backward. "But I'm deathly serious, except, well…" His expression screwed up in irritation as he pointed to his right eye. Of course, he had the same implant as Helmatier and the others. Gaia was listening in on every word. Harlock still looked as unfazed by this as ever, while my ears felt as though they were cooking.

Mamoru noticed with a smile. "I'm glad you haven't changed much," he said.

I wasn't forced to respond, not that I knew what to say, but thankfully Harlock spoke up. "We'll take the lift and go to the planning room. If we decide dueling is the only option, we'll return here."

My attempt to remind him that he was not the one who would be dueling was drowned out by Mamoru. "I'm not a prisoner then?" he asked, both of them ignoring me. "Does that mean you can get me some coffee and a snack? That was a long flight, and the food was terrible."

Harlock shrugged, a twitch of his shoulders. "Fair enough. For now, I prefer to consider you a guest, rather than a prisoner, but understand, I can't let you have free reign of the ship."

As Mamoru nodded, his back hit the lift doors. Though he seemed willing to cooperate, he glanced over Harlock with his brow furrowed. I guessed he was as confused by this as I was, though he only spoke of what foods he wanted the rest of the walk. By the end, he had a whole buffet laid out. "But really," he decided, "if I could just get some rice balls, that would be perfect."

Within fifteen minutes of Harlock sending word to the cook, she had a platter of rice balls for us on the planning room table. The table took up most of the room, with the three of us seated all in a row on one side. Sitting opposite one another would require calling back and forth across its screen-like surface. The walls were similar, all black without power.

Harlock allowed Mamoru to knock back a mug of coffee and a few rice balls before the makeshift interrogation began. "So you watched the fights between us and the other assassins?" Harlock asked.

Mamoru picked up another rice ball with a sigh. "I'm not sure what all I'm allowed to tell you, but I guess Helmatier revealed that much already, so yes, I've seen all those feeds. Helmatier was also the one who said she thought you two were sleeping together." A brief smile crossed his lips. "That's right, isn't it?"

"Next question," I grumbled. "You're all coming from the same base, right? So you're all staying together?"

"Don't know if I can tell you this, but I guess that much is obvious." He shrugged. "I didn't get to see them much, but yeah, Helmatier, Zero, Bainas, and Oki were all at the base too."

"Who else?" Harlock pressed.

He crossed his arms as a curious smile quirked his lips. "Okay, _that _I know I can't tell you, but to be completely honest, I don't even know who's in charge of this whole operation. It's all real hush-hush, and they kept us all pretty isolated."

Harlock looked at Mamoru like he was a child telling an obvious lie, but nodded his assent regardless. "So why are you here?"

"I thought I already said that. I'm here to see Yama and have a duel." He threw me a smile as though this was a perfectly logical reason.

"So they're not bribing you?" Harlock asked.

Mamoru rubbed at the bags under his eyes, his expression fading to a frown. "Like with money? Nah. I mean, sure it's a job, so they're going to pay me for it if I get back alive. But that's the point – it's a job. I was trained as an assassin, and that's what I'm doing."

Harlock let silence hold the air for a few breaths, though his eye seemed to be dissecting Mamoru with a sharp curiosity. "And what if we refused you your duel?" he asked at length. "We could refuel your ship and send you back the way you came, or we could simply hold you here and drop you off at the nearest inhabited planet. Gaia hasn't given me a good reason to hold up my end of these constant duels, so why should we go through with this?"

Mamoru's hand settled on the table, exhaustion weighing his eyes. He swallowed as his hand curled into a fist, so tight I could see every ridge of his knucklebones. "You can't," he said, soft as a breath. Then his eyes hardened, widening with fire and fury. "You can't refuse," he hissed. "I have to have this duel. I _need_ it."

In a flash of movement, he turned on Harlock, fingers digging into the collar of his cape. Harlock's expression was a mask of calm as Mamoru bared down on him. "I'll fight you here and now if I have to," he spat.

He was about to spout more venom, but I would not listen to it. Before he could continue. I latched onto the back of his collar and jerked him back toward me. He gave a startled choke as his shirt dug into his neck. "That's enough!" I barked as his arms whirled in an attempt to keep himself upright. "You're not dueling him! You're dueling me!"

I'd never seen him angry before. He wore a smile like it was just another article of clothing, so seeing genuine rage burning in those deep brown eyes felt wrong. But when he turned to me, his anger was eclipsed by despair.

When he was angry, I could fight back with my own anger, but the utter desperation in his expression left me feeling empty.

"Yama," he whispered. "Are you sure? We've fought so many times before, and I…" His gaze drifted to the center of my chest, where he'd shot me through so many times with our training guns that I was left aching from the bruises. They bloomed in a swarm of black and red over my heart, and it became so painful to breathe that I had to take a day off, a day where he spent all his free time coddling me.

I'd trained with him more than any other assassin, yet I only ever beat him twice. He should have jumped at the chance of such odds. There shouldn't have been any hesitation. If this duel was really so important to him, he should have been happy to kill me. That way, it would have been easier for me to find the drive to kill him.

"Either you duel me, or there is no duel."

His expression twisted in pain, as though I'd stabbed him with my answer. "Alright," he murmured. He forced a smile against the emotions swimming in his eyes. "Then we should get on with it. If I let myself get too distracted by you, I might forget why I'm here."

I almost asked him again – why was he here? He'd never seemed all that interested in killing Harlock to begin with, and he'd given me a reason to hope neither of us would be picked up by the Arcadia. This fight didn't seem to belong to him. He was just another one of Gaia's puppets.

He deserved better. They all did.

Harlock stood, unable to hide a wince as he leaned on his crutch. "Then let's go back to the hangar."

"Right," Mamoru sighed. "I guess we'll be enemies when we get down there, so I should say goodbye now."

No, I didn't want any goodbyes. It would only make this more painful.

As he stepped up to me, I told myself to back away. I shouldn't have let him get close. We needed to forget the past and get to the hangar. I just wanted the fight over and done with, regardless of the outcome.

But my feet felt too heavy to move. He looked like he carried a world of troubles on his shoulders, and I couldn't deny him one last request. His hand came to rest against my cheek, traces of affection amidst the sadness in his eyes. "I wish we could have had that date," he breathed.

"I wish you hadn't come here," I murmured. I didn't love him, but I couldn't deny that I cared for him. He was a friend, and I wanted him to find someone else who could make him happy. I wanted him to live out his life, safe and content. Even so, I didn't want to die to achieve that.

He brushed a kiss just below the bandage on my forehead, whispered words that weren't his, claiming them with the rare hues of sadness in his voice. "_I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, You grew up with me, were a boy with me…" _His sigh laced through my hair as softly as his fingers used to brush lazy patterns through it._ "I am to wait- I do not doubt I am to meet you again_." He pulled away with that damning affection haunting his eyes. "Fight well, Yama," he said as his fingers slipped from my cheek.

"I'll give you everything I've got," I answered.

As Mamoru started for the door, Harlock appeared at my side, his lips pressed tight. His eye was settled away from either of us until he grasped my chin and led me into a kiss, so brief I didn't have time to respond. "Don't you dare die," he whispered as he pulled away.

I wasn't planning on it, but Mamoru's sharpshooting far surpassed my own. I could win in a match of turrets, but handguns were his specialty. At least the match would be over quickly. We just needed one clear shot, and the other would go down.

No one spoke as we returned to the hangar. It seemed better that way. The silence made me feel dazed, made me wonder if any of this could even be real. Surely I would wake up soon. The assassins, the mission, the explosion – none of it could be real. I would wake up back home, back in the greenhouses. Things were always quiet there, and no one had to die.

But in reality, that was the dream now. The truth stared me down as Mamoru pulled his gun from its holster. "Would you like a quick draw or a cover fight?" he asked.

"Our only cover here are the fighters," I said. "But I am notoriously terrible at quick draws, so I guess a cover fight will have to do."

He nodded, looking as exhausted as I felt. No rush of adrenaline sustained me. It seemed I'd used the last of it up in my previous fights. Now I could only feel tired. I didn't want to die, but I wanted this over and done with.

No, that wasn't right. I didn't want it to happen at all.

I looked to Harlock, who didn't hide the worry in his face. It made me feel sick to see him like that, to see him scared for me. If I died, it would hurt him more than anyone, and I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't hurt him. I'd already hurt enough people.

I hadn't said my goodbyes to him, but Mamoru and I were at our end. If I lived, I could have Harlock. I could hold him again, feel his warmth and breathe his scent. Whether I lived or died, I couldn't have Mamoru again. He was lost to me, a living ghost. Just like Ezra. Just like Warrius.

"Same rules as always. Ten seconds," he said, as though to hold off having to count them down. "Ready?"

I nodded.

"Let's begin."

He used to say that with a grin on his face, used to start blasting away with a wild laugh. He fought like a child playing a game, and his joy was infectious. I loved our fights, even when I inevitably lost. He made training something I could enjoy.

I wished I could hear him laugh again, wished I could replace our guns with those useless training pistols.

We took our cover in silence, and I closed my eye until time was up. My shoulder was pressed to the cool metal leg of a fighter, just as I'd done with Warrius. There were no other options.

With the time up, he fired a couple pot shots my way to see if he could startle me out in the open. "Hey," he called. "If you were going to use this hangar for a battlefield, you should have put more cover barriers in it. There's nothing to work with here."

"Yeah, I'm sure putting barriers all over the floor will work out great when we need to land a fighter," I huffed.

His laugh echoed through the room, sounding alien to my ears. I took a lazy shot toward him to make sure this was still reality. He responded with his own shots, which flew away harmlessly.

"Do you remember the first day you showed up at the training base?" he asked, a smile in his voice. "And you took one look at one of our practice rooms and asked the director how anywhere we might fight Harlock would have such a strange layout with so much cover. God, he was so flustered."

"I don't remember anything about my first day other than that you wouldn't stop hitting on me!" I fumed. Each time I took a shot toward his cover, he answered, but none of them even hit the metal we hid behind.

"I'm amazed you knew I was hitting on you," he cackled. "I had to be completely blunt about it before you noticed. When I first walked up to you I said 'Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?' – my best line! And you answered with something like 'Why would you call me your name? I don't even know it.'" His wheeze became an endless cackle. I was amazed he wasn't rolling on the floor.

"If that's your best line, you don't deserve a legitimate response anyway!" With him distracted, I dashed to another fighter. A shot whizzed behind me just before I took cover. From my new angle, I had a clear shot at him, but only for an instant. He dashed away with a smirk. As he raced for a new cover, I lined up for a shot, but he jumped back without warning and ran in the opposite direction. I could only blast off a couple sloppy shots before he found cover again.

"You know, sometimes I would rattle off innuendos just to see how many would fly over your head," he yelled. "And then Bainas would join in, and we'd just go back and forth for minutes at a time. You always looked so confused."

"Hey, I caught on after a while! I'd just never heard some of those before!"

"I'm not saying you were innocent. I mean, you were kind of naïve, but once I got you in bed-" He gave a low whistle.

"Not that you were all that difficult to impress," I snorted. "You had all your big talk and innuendos, and then what?"

He barked another laugh, and I found myself grinning alongside him. When I rushed toward another cover, he followed after me, each of us firing haphazardly at the other's trail.

"Come on, you lasted longer in matches than you did in bed," he taunted.

"I could say the same for you, losing to Bainas after two minutes."

"Hey, you lost to Zero after fifteen seconds."

"That's because it was Warrius! You lost to him after twenty!"

"Still longer than you! At least I didn't end up on my ass at the end of every fight."

"You talk big, but you were only three ranks higher than me in the end."

We dipped around cover, never staying in one place for long. Blasts flashed back and forth as easily as the insults. We ran without much care or thought, just like we used to. Our only strategy was to not have one, our paths so erratic it was difficult to aim for a clear shot. Despite the sharp pain from each heaving breath, I found myself laughing along with him. I didn't notice the tears spilling from my eyes until the wind of running cooled their wet tracks against my cheeks.

I shouldn't have let us fall into that same old routine. I shouldn't have remembered those times back at the base. I shouldn't have been so careless.

It should have been purposeful when I shot him through the chest. Once again, the world didn't feel real when it happened. He wasn't supposed to have run that direction. He wasn't supposed to get hit. One moment he was laughing, and the next there was a goddamn hole through his heart. The world was silent again. Empty. Wrong.

I watched him clutch his chest, watched his smile fade to terror, and I wondered how this world could ever be real. I had to wake up, somewhere, anywhere but here. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

The massive gap between us became nothing. I didn't feel myself cross it, but I knew I had to catch him before he fell, and then I had him in my arms, my hands warm with the blood seeping from the exit wound. "No," he whispered against my shoulder. "No, no, no."

I couldn't think anything different.

His legs must have given out because I was forced to sink to my knees under the sudden, full brunt of his weight. "Mamoru," I gasped, my eyes blurring as he relaxed against me.

Gun fights were over too quickly. There was no time for goodbyes, no time to take anything back. His blood soaked through the front of my shirt, sickeningly wet and warm. I should have made him a prisoner, no matter what he wanted. I should have done whatever it took to keep him alive. I couldn't lose him too.

He was too alive to die, too damn stupid and happy and _alive_.

"No," he continued, fear rippling through his voice as he jerked his head up. "I can't lose. They'll hurt him. They'll hurt Susumu."

"Susumu?" I'd heard the name from him before. He'd pulled a picture from his breast pocket of a scrawny brunet preteen. His little brother, he'd said.

"They'll kill him like they killed Zero's family," he sobbed, blood bubbling on his lips. He pawed at my chest, eyes so dull I doubted he could see my face in front of his. "I can't let them hurt my baby brother. I'm so sorry." His voice faded to a broken whisper. "I'm so sorry."

I wondered why he would ever need to apologize to me. Harlock screamed my name, and again, I wondered why. Pain exploded through my chest – red-hot like fire in my heart. The smell of fresh blood and burnt flesh tinged the air.

Then I knew only pain and the deep brown of Mamoru's eyes. They used to hold such affection for me, but now they held nothing. They began to fade to black along with everything else.

Mamoru's voice sounded so far away, but I could feel him against me, so warm. "Sorry, Yama… Susumu."

The world was so quiet, so dark. It must have been a dream, the sort of dream that faded from memory the more I tried to remember. Sleep felt like an abyss, but falling was pleasant. I couldn't feel any more pain, and somewhere, so far away, I heard Harlock's voice.

I only wished he didn't sound so sad.

* * *

**I don't know what else you'd expect from me at this point.**

**Big thank you to all my reviewers! I struggled a lot with this chapter, so I would always go back and read over my reviews to give myself more motivation. I'm embarrassing, but at least I finally got out a chapter.**


	10. All In

**Life does not want me to write, but too bad. I finally finished Harlock's existential crisis chapter. And since there aren't enough character cameos in this fic, I added another one. See if you can spot it. It's real obvious.**

* * *

I knew my eyes were open, but I wasn't seeing anything. All my attention was focused on sound, my ears sharpened for it. The other five on the Gullwing remained silent as well, while we all waited to hear an update. There was no way the report those men received was accurate. It wasn't possible.

"I can't believe we finally got one," the man we called Three said through our headsets. We'd since learned his name, along with the names of the two others who worked in the relay station. But we felt no reason to call them anything but numbers.

Hacking into the relay point was child's play, but hacking into the station's layout and files was a more complex matter. If we used the fastest method, their system would most likely catch us. The decryption was slow in the meantime, so slow we had nothing to do but listen in on and mock everything the relay operators said.

It stopped being funny when they received a report saying Yama was dead.

"But we lost A4 in the process," Two said.

That was why we didn't bother to call them by name; the assassins were only codenames to them.

"If we had ten more assassins, maybe we could get Harlock too," Three grumbled.

"We still have A5 to wear him down and A1 to finish him off."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Didn't you bet on A1?"

The others on the Gullwing jumped as I smashed my fist into the console in front of me. "Fuck!" I screamed. "Tell me about Yama!? What happened to Yama!?"

"What about the kid?" One asked.

"What kid?" I answered alongside Three.

"What's his name? Uh, A4's little brother. You think command will have us kill him too?"

They all went silent for a few breaths. "Probably," Three muttered. "They didn't hesitate when it came to Zero's wife and kid."

"Christ," Two sighed. "That kid's like twelve. I would hate to be the one to do it."

"The executioner here doesn't give a damn," One said. "But maybe command will have a change of heart."

"If they don't for this one, they won't for the rest," Two said.

"I just hope I don't have to see the bodies this time," One whispered.

It sounded like a hostage situation if I'd ever heard one. Out of desperation, we'd taken hostages a few times, but we never hurt any innocents. I couldn't believe these bastards, killing children. I would not stand for it.

"Kei," one of the boys called, a warning to his voice. Something must have shown in my face. "You know we can't-"

"We can," I hissed. "And we will. It's what Yama would've wanted."

* * *

Someone tore Yama from my arms. I didn't know who. I couldn't think straight. Couldn't see. Couldn't breathe.

My hands shot out to grasp at empty air, a desperate attempt to get him back. I had to take him to the doctor. I had to stop the blood seeping from the charred hole in his gut. He was dying, and I'd allowed it to happen. I'd seen the way Mamoru's arm moved. I knew he had a gun, knew he was going to shoot Yama point blank, but I wasn't fast enough. I could barely get out a yell before the stream of burning light tore through Yama's back.

By the time I reached him, his eye was void of light. If he heard my voice cracking or felt me shaking his limp body, he gave no sign. Just as I'd pulled him from Mamoru, Yama was taken from my grasp. In that empty moment of time, I found my vision focusing on the young man lying in front of me.

Mamoru had collapsed to his side, his hat upturned on the floor beside him. His eyes were closed, and blood pooled across his lips, bubbling as he mouthed his final words. Before I could decipher them, someone appeared in front of me, grasping my shoulders. "Captain," he said, as though behind a wall. "Hey!"

I blinked, and time began to flow properly again. My muddled thoughts gave way to the world around me. The pervasive hum of the ship continued as always, and men yelled in the halls at my back.

My irritated, young engineer stood over me with a scowl. "The guys have Yama," he said. "Come on." He tugged at my collar until I stood, too tall for him to maintain his grip.

So they'd been watching us this round, waiting in the wings for when things inevitably went sour. I suspected they'd been at it from the beginning. Usually, they stayed in the hall until we dragged ourselves out, but they had to step in this time. I couldn't say I wasn't relieved. Trying to carry Yama in my condition would have taken too long, and even if my damaged leg managed the trip, I could only carry one at a time.

The irritated engineer began to stalk off when I grabbed him by the arm. "Mamoru too," I felt myself say.

His eyes went wide. "What? The assassin!?"

"We might still be able to save him."

The kid looked at me like I'd lost my mind, and perhaps I had. But it was for the best. I could feel rage burning somewhere- no, everywhere. It coursed through my veins, told me to feel sick relief as Mamoru lay dying.

But this was my fault, not his. All of this came back to me. The assassins were nothing but unlucky pawns, and I wanted to save this one. For Yama.

I'd never heard Yama laugh like he laughed with Mamoru. His eye lit up with his joy even as he cried. There were more worthwhile reasons to save Mamoru, but that was enough for me. The man deserved to live for Yama's sake. I'd already taken so much from Yama. At the very least, I wanted to give him this.

Despite the uneasy glances, my men scooped up the assassin on my orders and rushed him to the infirmary. "He's the one who shot Yama, you know," the kid grumbled as he handed me my crutch.

I knew that better than anyone. I saw it happen every time I closed my eye, and I could hear Mamoru's broken apologies alongside Yama's soft cry of pain and confusion. But at the same time, I could hear the two of them laughing. I could hear the regret and loss and longing laced in every word they'd spoken.

At the time, I'd wanted to intrude on it - on them - but now the thought made me sick. My mere existence separated them. All the pain they felt was because of me, and as I stood outside the infirmary, I could only place my burning rage upon myself.

If there was any justice in this world, they would both survive.

But, perhaps, there was none.

"I'm only one man," the doctor sighed, his hands trembling as he tilted a bottle back. "I can only perform one surgery at a time. There was no chance for me to save both."

The room smelled sharp with blood and sterile chemicals as Yama's heart monitor followed a steady beat of beeping. The other bed held nothing but a white sheet over a body. Maybe if I'd recruited two doctors, or if I'd given him better medical equipment, or if Mamoru had been brought in first…

"So Mamoru had a chance," I murmured.

The doctor gave a curious hum as the alcohol steadied his hands. "The assassin? I may have been able to save him. There's no guarantee, but if I'd focused on him, Yama probably wouldn't have made it."

The smell of the room left a bitter taste in my mouth. It wrinkled my nose and furrowed my brow. The doctor seemed surprised. "You think I should have saved the assassin?"

No, that wasn't right. That wasn't what I thought. I would never want Yama to die, but I still wanted for Mamoru to live. "He didn't do this of his own free will," I sighed. "He was doing this to save someone. He was blackmailed." That was all I could understand of "Susumu," though Yama seemed to recognize the name.

The doctor looked at me as though I was some petulant child. "I'm not saying he deserved to die. But Yama is one of our own. He comes first. I would have saved the kid if I could've, but the damage to his lungs was messy. Even if I'd neglected Yama and started with him, I may have just lost them both."

He took another swig of sake and spoke again before I could. "Captain, I think all this stress is getting to you. Go sit with Yama for a bit while I take care of the body. Maybe get some rest if you can, but don't be too hard on yourself. If you get too down, Kei won't let you hear the end of it when she gets back."

After one more drink, he took Mamoru away to the back room, and I dragged myself to Yama's side. We'd done this too often as of late, enough for a lifetime. The chair I sat in had moved one way or another, but always for us. Even so, I felt like I could breathe again. Yama was alive – pale as death, but alive.

I must have watched his chest rise and fall for hours, until his eyelid fluttered along with a sharp intake of breath. He made some noise, maybe an attempt at speech, as he fought to keep his eyes open.

"Yama," I called. "It's alright. You can sleep."

Turning to find me, he answered with a whine. Half-words formed and died on his unruly tongue as he wriggled his hand through the gaps in the bed's railing. It couldn't have been comfortable with the awkward angle of his arm, but I took his hand as it seemed he wanted me too. A smile traced his lips as his eyelid grew too heavy for him.

I doubted he recalled what had happened or understood where he was. My hand clasping his was enough to keep him content. For this one moment, he could be unaware and happy. As I pressed the backs of his fingers to my lips, I hoped he could stay that way a while longer. I hoped his dreams would be kind to him. It would be alright as long as he could sleep.

At times, I slept alongside him. The first time I woke with a crick in my neck to the doctor grumbling until I moved to a new bed he'd prepared. I never seemed to stay asleep for long. Whenever I woke, I'd check on Yama. The color returned to his cheeks shade by shade. After a night of half-dozes, I spent the morning limping around the ship's corridors, checking on whatever I could. The men said there was nothing to report and shooed me away each time. Soft, relaxing hues filled the computer room, either from relief or sorrow. My friend was quiet.

The hangar was cleaned in my absence. Only a few burnt scars along the wall remained as evidence of the fight. With nothing else to do, I was forced back toward the infirmary.

My young engineer caught up to me before I reached it. "Do something with this," he snapped, tossing something my way. My hands shot up to catch it on instinct.

It was Mamoru's hat, crisp and new unlike Zero's. He must have had some rank in order to earn it, if it truly belonged to him. I wasn't certain what to do with it, but I was certain the kid would be upset with me if I didn't make some use of it. He was always irritated about something.

I decided the best course of action was to send it off with its owner; then I stepped through the infirmary door.

Yama was awake. He still looked exhausted, his eye unfocused and heavy as it fell my way. That touch of a smile returned at the sight of me, but the sadness in his eye marred it. "Harlock," he breathed.

I tried to hide my limp as I strode to his side, and he tried to keep his smile as his gaze found the hat in my hands.

"Are you in any pain?" I asked too quickly.

Though his smile widened, it seemed weaker. "Ah, it hurts," he mumbled, his voice thin and raw. "It hurts to breathe. Hurts to move."

Tears pricked at the corner of his eye as he reached out a trembling hand once again. But this was not for me. I placed the hat in his grasp, and his fingers curled around the brim. "He's gone," he said as if confirming it for himself. "He's gone too. He's gone." Bringing the cap to his face, he hid behind it as shuddered gasps tore through him.

Once more, I felt the need to intrude. Perhaps this last moment should have just been for Yama and Mamoru, but I couldn't stand there while Yama tried to hold back his sobs. For fear of agitating his wound further, I ran my fingers through his hair, murmuring apologies until he cried himself to sleep.

I tucked the cap under his arm and watched his blotchy, tear-stained face until the doctor walked in, yawning. "Can you keep him asleep?" I asked.

The doctor jolted as though I'd slapped him. Rather than question me, he crossed his arms and waited for my explanation.

"Just until I can guarantee no other assassins are coming. And if they do come, I think it would be best if he doesn't go through this anymore."

With a slow, enraged sigh, Dr. Zero reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Captain," he said at length. "You understand that you're asking me to remove the freedom of one of your crewmen. Doing this without Yama's knowledge or consent goes against… well, my morals for one thing." He threw up his hand with a growl. "Do you really think it's a good idea?"

"I'm not certain," I admitted. "But I know this is killing him as much as the wounds are. I don't know who the remaining assassins are or if they'll even show up, but it will be better if he doesn't see them die… or me die."

The doctor began pacing, more irritated with me than he'd been in some time, yet he hadn't said no. "That all sounds nice in theory – except I won't let you die, so no dice there – but do you really think that's what Yama would want? You think if he heard you pitch that idea, he'd be a willing participant?"

"No, but I don't think he's in a stable enough position to make the best decision for himself."

"And you think you are?" Dr. Zero scoffed.

I hesitated. He was right, after all. I knew this decision went against my ideals as well as his, and I would almost certainly regret it later. Yama would hate me when he found out, but if we didn't ensure his inability to move, he would want to meet with the other assassins. He would want to see the duels and possibly take part in them. He was too stubborn for his own good.

And so was I.

"You know he'll try to move if another assassin arrives, likely today or tomorrow," I said. "The alarm will go off, and he'll drag himself out of that bed even if his wound reopens."

Zero's eyes narrowed on me. "I know. He's just like you. You both want to kill yourselves in the most inane ways. Fine-fine." He waved me out of the way as he strode forward. "I can't exactly put him in a coma, so he'll still wake up. But I can keep him so exhausted he won't know what the alarm's for or which way the door is."

That sounded suspiciously similar to a few experiences I could only vaguely recall, but I stayed quiet as the doctor tapped out the dosage for Yama's drip. The empty bag beside the IV filled with some transparent, pink drug, which flowed down the line to Yama's arm.

I already felt a tinge of regret, but this was what was best for Yama. He needed rest, an escape from this Hell, and this was the only way to ensure it.

The doctor heaved another sigh as he turned to me. "You really think the last of the assassins will come? What is it? Two more?"

I nodded. "Helmatier suggested Gaia was doing this as test for the assassins. Killing one of us would prove their loyalty, at least in the case of Zero. I would stand to reason that Mamoru was in the same boat. They used someone he cared about as a bargaining chip and blackmailed him into this mission, just like with Zero's family. That suggests that his mission was a test of loyalty as well. Either that, or he knew too much. As things stand, it looks to me that Gaia isn't doing this in the hopes that one assassin will take us out. They want to wash their hands of these assassins entirely."

"So the last two may be blackmailed as well?"

My brows knitted as I considered it. There were too many variables for a sure answer. "Yama suggested that they might be willing to come of their own free will because of the reward. Killing one of us would mean better lives for their families, but at this point, I'm not certain Gaia has any charitable plans toward the families of these assassins. Mamoru said Zero's family was killed, and Mamoru feared his own loved-one dying."

If Gaia had no reason to uphold their end of the bargain, they would not. Even if this Susumu was an innocent in all of this, he was likely a burden on Gaia if they were holding him prisoner. They would simply remove him from the equation like Zero's family.

"No matter their reasons, I believe the last of the assassins will come," I said. "Gaia has shown no care for their well-being. It is likely Gaia wants them dead, and they're all being sent here in the hopes that maybe they can be of a bit more use before Gaia disposes of them."

"Very well," Dr. Zero grumbled. "Then let's get your knee braced in case you're stupid enough to duel the next one."

I'd hoped to avoid that, but the doctor would not hear of it. The brace was so tight, I could feel it rubbing my skin raw with each step, but I could almost hide my limp with it. The pain of my knee no longer knocked at the back of my skull; unfortunately, it was only a temporary fix. The longer I used it, the longer my knee would take to heal. But if it kept me alive, it was worth the price.

I should have waited on the bridge for the assassin. Should have gotten a new pair of gloves to replace the ones caked with dried blood. But I stayed at Yama's side, my gloves hanging at the foot of his bed.

He twitched in his sleep at times, troubled by some dream. I wanted to lie next to him just to hold him as long as I could, but I didn't want to agitate his wound. I didn't wish to rouse him with pain. Instead, I traced circles through his hair, still a bit soft from the bath. With him asleep, I couldn't tell him goodbye when the alarm finally sounded. I couldn't promise I'd return. I couldn't apologize for keeping him prisoner in his sleep.

But I kissed his chapped lips, hoping he might feel it in his dreams. "I love you," I breathed, brushing my thumb across his cheek. "I'll be back."

As I pulled away, his eyelid fluttered, but he fell asleep as quickly as he woke. I doubted he'd even seen me.

The walk to the bridge was a long one. The men seemed uncertain on what to say, so they all stayed quiet as I passed. By the time I stepped off the lift, the lone fighter was in range and requesting a transmission as always. I strode to Kei's console as the bridge crew remained quietly irritated. In all honesty, it took me a moment to recall the codes. I hadn't manned the communications console in ages, so I drew out the process further. A few feet were tapping by the time I confirmed the link.

"Finally," a young voice grumbled. Too young. As young as the face staring at me from the overhead. He couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen, too young to mask his fear with anger. Deep, brown eyes couldn't hold my gaze and darted away to every corner of his fighter. His hair matched his eyes and was long enough to curl around cheeks still pudgy with baby fat.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. He was too young to be an assassin, too small.

"I'm here to kill you," he snapped, irritable like my young engineer. But his anger seemed to stem from anxiety, his breathing and speech a little too quick. "M-my name is Tadashi Monono," he said, rubbing at his eye as he tried to fight back the brimming tears. "I'm r-rank five."

"They're blackmailing you too, aren't they?" I asked.

He crushed his lower lip between his teeth, his shoulders trembling. After a few halted attempts at speech, he whispered his answer. "I don't care about you. I have to save my little sister, so you have to die. I can't lose."

* * *

**I wasn't originally intending for the doctor to be Dr. Zero because I was writing him so irritated with the boys the whole time, but I decided to go ahead and label him that way. Grumpy, CG Dr. Zero. Seems about right. **


	11. Full House

**I'm so close to finishing this fic ahhhh.**

* * *

I'd known the kid was small, but seeing him in person was something else. The top of his head just managed to reach my chest, even with my elbow at rest. Still, he stood glaring at me as well as someone twice his size. It seemed he'd found his resolve.

I wished he hadn't.

"I don't want to jump into a duel," I said, keeping my voice soft. "Let's just talk first."

He looked at me with all the distrust of a wild animal. From the moment he jumped down from his fighter, he hadn't let me within ten paces of him. When I tried to step closer, he took a step back, gloved hands hovering over the knives strapped to his chest. He only had two in the bandolier, and the blades looked longer than his hands. These definitely weren't throwing knives. If we fought, he would bear down on me in an attempt to bury one in my chest. I would have to keep him at a distance with my saber. I couldn't risk using my gun.

"I don't have time to stand around talking," he snapped. "Quit stalling."

I didn't know if it could be considered stalling if I had no plans to duel him properly. If forced, I would attempt to disable him, and we could hold him captive, but I hoped I could avoid drawing my blade.

"It's clear you're anxious," I said. "You also look exhausted. At the very least, let us give you something to eat, so you can sit and rest for a while. You can't fight at your best like this."

He did look exhausted, his skin pale and his eyes masked with rings of faint purple. "So? You look worse than me," he said. "I don't need your charity, pirate. I need this duel, and that's it, so let's get it over with."

As he went for his knives again, I held up a hand as if I could stop him. "Killing me doesn't guarantee anything. If you'd just let us help-"

"I won't take anything from you! I'm not an idiot! I have to keep my sister safe, and that means fighting you. I don't give a damn about you, but you have to die for her."

Surely he would have been more willing to listen to reason if not for Gaia monitoring his every move. And because of it, I had to be careful with my own words as well. If I could have told him about Kei and how she might be able to help, I would have, but giving away her location to Gaia was a death sentence. Monono could know nothing of our hidden pawn, so he couldn't know of the small chance we had at finding where they held his sister.

Even if I could have told him, perhaps he still would ask to duel. I could make no guarantees at her safety, only his. If he stayed with us, I could protect him. But if he killed me and returned to Gaia…

"I won't fight you," I admitted. "We'll do anything in our power to aid you and your sister, but I just won't duel you. I'm sorry."

His eye widened in a moment's fear, as though I'd drowned him in a floodlight. But he didn't dither long. He shook his head, tossing away his doubts. "There's nothing you can do for me," he spat. "You're the reason Rebi's in danger, and you're the reason-" Gritting his teeth, he halted against his strangled words. His hands found his knives and tore them from the holsters. "You're the reason everyone else is gone!"

Those short legs were faster than they appeared, and he bore down on me just as I drew my saber.

Against two knives, I couldn't stick solely to defense. His quick slashes and jabs forced my hand to flick each knife away before the other could find my skin. I couldn't hold one off for long for fear of the other sinking into my arm. My only saving grace was his minimal range. He couldn't chance throwing one if it meant losing it, so our blades clashed in a fury, sharp screams of metal against metal.

His ability far surpassed most assassins, especially for his age, but he had one fatal flaw. My eye darted between his hands, which always flipped the knives as smoothly as the flick of his wrist, but it telegraphed each attack. As I learned his method for each strike, I saw them before they cut the air ahead of me in each turn of his hand. With a normal fighting knife, he could have corrected this mistake.

But the handles on these were odd, just simple plastic handles with no grip. The blades weren't serrated, not even curved in any way that might aid him.

I took a step back, batting another attack away from my throat. "Are you fighting with cooking knives?" I asked, baffled by the thought.

He jumped back, his knives still up and ready to slash. "What's it to you? These were all I had to defend myself with back home, so I had to learn to use them. Besides, I can kill you with them just fine. I don't need any fancy clip or needle blade."

Such a childish way to think. He rushed me again, and I readied myself for another slash. He tended to begin with those, followed by a jab using the momentum of his thrown balance when I knocked the first bade away.

But he appeared to know himself better than I did. Just as he came in range, he dipped under my guard. I didn't have time to think things through. I only knew I had to stop him from jamming a knife in my bad knee or my Achilles. If I lost use of my leg in this fight, I would have to go on offense to survive.

With my free hand, I snapped a grip around his wrist before he could jam a knife in my leg, but I wasn't quick enough to stop the other knife from burying itself into my forearm. I felt the blade grate against bone, rattling me all the way to my spine. Sharp pain gave way to jolts of red-hot agony with every beat of my heart. I grit my teeth to hold back a yell.

It appeared we'd both reacted on instinct. Monono's wide eyes focused on my crushing grip, one he must have thought spelled his end. Truly, I could have brought my saber down and finished him then; instead, I swatted my saber against his hand just as I released him. The startle was enough that he let go of the knife in my arm, and he rolled away without it.

Left with one short-ranged weapon against me, he stood little chance. My aching arm screamed at me to remove the metal jammed between my bones, but I couldn't chance the blood loss. Without my glove, blood had already begun to drip from my fingertips and and coated the inside of my sleeve.

"That was a strong attack," I said with a nod. "Risky, but effective."

Monono held his knife level with his chest, poised to strike again at any moment.

But I let the tip of my saber fall to the floor. "You're at a disadvantage now, but you must know that I don't want to hurt you. If I did, I had the perfect opportunity before."

"I don't care what you want," he said, flicking the blade my way like a baton. "It doesn't matter if you don't fight back. I'll still kill you. As long as I'm not facing your back, I can put a knife in your heart."

I cocked a brow. "You won't stab me in the back?"

"That's cheap," he huffed. "I might be an assassin, but even I have standards, not that you'd offer me the same courtesy."

"I wouldn't shoot you in the back."

His lip twitched with a snarl. "Oh sure, not while you're trying to win me over. But it wouldn't be the first time you shot someone's brother in the back, would it?"

My mind ground to a halt at that. His voice held such malice that I almost wondered if I'd killed his own brother. If I allowed this conversation to continue, he would only hate me more.

"Monono," I sighed. "I understand why you hate me, why you want me dead. After what happened with the other assassins and your sister, my death would be a fair price to pay. And if I thought dying would save your sister, I would duel you properly. But even if you were to win, I don't think Gaia will let either of you go alive at this point. They're just using you."

"You think I don't know that!?" he cried, his voice breaking with the strain. "But I have to try! I don't have a choice."

"But you do." I held out my bloodied hand, yet he took a step back as though I might strike him.

"They'll kill her for sure. I can't let myself live if it means she'll die." He shook his head, terror overflowing in his wide eyes.

I breathed a sigh and kept my hand outstretched despite the sharp ache running through my nerves. "If you go back to Gaia, neither of you have a chance. But if you'll let me help, I'll do everything in my power to save your sister."

Smashing his hands over his ears, he shook his head so hard frays of hair whipped at his cheeks. It pained me to see such a childish gesture. He truly was far too young for this. "No, no!" he yelled. "I won't listen! It's all your fault! Things can't go back to the way they were. All because of you!"

* * *

I didn't notice the mug of coffee in front of my face until I smelled it. It seemed to hover there on its own, so I reached up and took it, thanking whatever mysterious coffee gods were responsible. Usually I was the one bringing everyone coffee.

"Hey, Yama," a small voice greeted. "You looked tired, so I thought you might like that."

My eyes trailed over to find Tadashi sitting beside me, his legs crossed on the couch and his hands in his lap. He was a cute kid, definitely too young to be an assassin, but Uncle Warrius had grumbled about how that was the idea.

"Reportedly, Harlock has a soft spot for kids," he'd huffed. "So they think Tadashi will have a good chance to weasel his way into Harlock's trust. I don't care what the reason is, using a kid like that is disgusting, but I have no say in it. Best I can do is prepare the kid and hopefully keep him alive."

With my mind elsewhere, I took a sip of the coffee. It must have contained upwards of five sugars along with some milk. It was just about the lightest coffee I'd ever seen, but I took another sip, just happy to have something. "Thanks," I murmured around the rim.

Tadashi nodded with a smile, and I considered the best way to keep those pirates as far from the kid as possible. Sure, I'd seen him fight Marina in a flurry of clashing knives, and he could land a fatal blow against me within seconds, but he was also so small. I found myself wanting to ruffle his hair and squish his cheeks.

I might have, but Warrius already did it on a regular basis, and the kid swatted at his hand every time.

Tadashi leaned forward, peering up at my face. "You look stressed," he said.

I felt myself smile. "Sounds about right. I've just been thinking too much lately, I guess."

"About the mission?"

"Hm, yes, that's part of it." I took another tongue-numbing drink before settling the mug on one of my knees. "Just been thinking about my brother is all."

"You have a brother?" he gasped, his eyes glowing with the amazement only children can manage. "I'm a brother too. I'm doing this mission for my little sister. Are you doing it for brother?"

His little sister couldn't have been older than ten, so I had a feeling we weren't doing this for quite the same reasons. "Kind of. My brother's the older one though." I tried to return his smile, but I could feel the lie showing in my eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Do you miss him? I'm a big brother so maybe I can help!" He crossed his arms, nodding to assure me of his qualification. He was such a sweet kid. I couldn't drag him down with my problems. A breath of a laugh bubbled up from my chest, though I didn't find anything funny.

As I watched the milky coffee wobble in the mug, I found myself wishing I could be his age again. My life had been so much simpler than his, so simple that my problems would be laughable to him. I thought for a moment that I wanted him to laugh at me.

"Do you think you could stay mad at your little sister forever?" I asked, "if she did something really, really awful?"

He hummed in consideration, his head cocked to the side like a curious pup. "No," he decided before I even had time to take another sip of coffee. "I couldn't stay mad forever. I could be mad for a little while, and I am sometimes," he huffed. "But I'll forgive her. She's all I've got left, and I'm all she has, and I love her. I've lost a lot of other people, so I've got to protect her. Besides, she's my sister. She's supposed to make me mad, but we're supposed to love each other. That's how family works."

A smile lit up his face as he finished, seeming content with his answer, but it vanished when he looked to me. "Ah! Why are you crying!? What's wrong?"

"Am I?" Reaching up, I wiped a few stray tears from my eyes. "Oh, it's nothing. I don't know why I'm crying." I tried to force another laugh, but it sounded like a sob. God, I was crying in front of a little kid. I must have looked so stupid to him.

Small arms appeared around my middle, and I felt his temple rest against my shoulder. "It's alright," he said. "I'll be your brother too. It's really lonely here, so we can be each other's brother, and we won't be so lonely."

I wrapped an arm around him in return and crushed him to my chest. "Okay," I breathed resting my chin atop his soft frays of hair. "You'll be my little brother then. Thank you."

* * *

If the assassin hadn't already killed Harlock, I would do it myself.

Hell, if the assassin did already kill Harlock, I would still kill him myself.

That bastard. Thinking he could drug me.

At the very least, he could have had that conversation while I wasn't right next to him. I'd thought I was dreaming at first, but when I woke up to something new feeding the tube in my arm, I'd forced my heavy hand over to remove the tube. The needle port still stuck out of my arm, but it was the least of my worries.

I couldn't seem to walk. The drug made my more unsteady than any alcohol, and I could only hold myself up on the wall for so long before my knees would smash into the floor. Between my boneless legs and trying to remember how to get to the hangar, the trip was slow-going.

Sleep felt heavy yet comfortable. Every few seconds, my eyelid drooped and my legs threatened to give out. When they did, the cold slap of the floor against my face woke me up well enough. If I hadn't needed to go kill Harlock, though, I would have been happy to fall asleep in the middle of any hallway.

As I spotted a group of what appeared to be engineers loitering around a door, I allowed myself a mental cheer. They turned to me, but I couldn't quite make out their expressions around the blurry film on my eye.

"Yama!" the little one yelped. "What are you doing?"

"I'm here to kick the Captain's ass," I hissed.

They all glanced between each other, so I wobbled forward a few more steps. I didn't have time to chat with them.

"Um, maybe you shouldn't," someone said to my back. "He's fighting some kid. You might get hurt."

"Some kid?" I paused, my hand holding me up against the doorframe. My mind seemed to drift too much for me to make sense of his words, yet I knew they meant something. From behind the door, I heard the sharp shear of metal against metal, but the pitch was higher than that of two sabers clashing. "Knives," I gasped. "Oh God, Tadashi."

My attempt to rush through the door smashed me into the floor after three steps. I didn't have time to care about my crunched nose. "Tadashi!" I yelled as I dragged my head up. I could see a blur of his figure, seemingly smaller than usual next to Harlock. He seemed to be in one piece.

"Yama!" Harlock yelled, sounding startled.

"Brother!" Tadashi spoke through a sob. "It's really you! I thought you were dead!"

As I struggled to my knees, Tadashi's little shoes cracked against the floor. He seemed to materialize in front of me when I blinked away the blurry edges. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke through stuttering sobs. "I saw Kodai shoot you! I thought you were dead! It was awful." He tackled my neck in a hug, sniffling beside my ear.

"I'm fine, little brother. I'm fine." He was no assassin, not when I had to hold him close and pat his back. He was just a little kid who needed protection. He was too young to have been the one protecting. "I've got you. It's going to be okay. You don't have to fight."

"But I do!" he blubbered, pulling back. "Gaia is going to hurt Rebi if I don't kill Harlock. I have to fight him."

I felt as though I was swimming through the air as I reached up and held his face in my hands. "I promise we'll take care of you, and we'll find a way to get Rebi too. I won't let them hurt you. I'm your big brother, okay? So I'll protect you. I promise."

He crushed his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes darting away from me as I let my hands drift from his face. "Trust me," I whispered, offering a hand. "Please?"

His hand trembled like a flower in the rain as he raised it toward mine. If I could just have him, not all of this would be Hell. If I could just have him, I could have family again. I could have a brother again.

I would have given anything to have that.

His hand retracted with a jerk, and he clutched his head, his eyes shut tight. "Tadashi?" I called, my voice weak with fear and confusion.

I didn't know if he heard me. Lines of blood poured from his ears and nose. He gave a soft cry, the sound a wounded bird makes before it falls. When his eyes opened, blood spilled from them too just before they rolled back into his head. I grabbed for him one more time, and he dropped against me.

"Tadashi?" I choked. "Brother?"

He didn't move. He didn't speak. He didn't breathe.

This wasn't right. This was a dream too.

I slipped his still form into a cradle. My lips still formed his name, over and over, so why wouldn't he respond? With a trembling hand, I wiped the blood from his face, and I waited for him to answer me.

But someone else said my name, and my head jolted up to find Harlock kneeling in front of me. "Yama," he breathed. "I'm so sorry, but-"

He reached a bloodied hand toward my little brother, and I screamed, pulling Tadashi close. "No," I sobbed. "You can't! Not him too! He's too young! It's not fair! He's not a threat. You can't take him too." I couldn't breathe through my tears. None of this was right. None of it was real.

"It's not fair," I gasped. "It's not fair."

"I know," Harlock said. "I know. I'm sorry."

* * *

**Yama would be the best big brother, really. **


	12. Four of a Kind

The satellite had good security, but not the best. Once the full layout of the place was finally within my grasp, we set to work on a strategy. Our best bet was stealth, admittedly not a specialty of mine, but storming in would get us all killed.

With a steadying breath, I checked over my gun for the sixth time. The mechanisms responded with smooth ease. Death would come quickly to anyone in my way, but I hoped to avoid using it until we'd captured most of the base. Until then, we had to use knives – quieter weapons, but messier. I hated getting all that blood on my hands. It always ruined my gloves.

The boys adjusted their uniforms, nervous fidgets of movements. To keep us light on our toes, we decided to leave the armor behind this round. One shot would easily be fatal, and five against two-dozen wasn't the best odds.

"Well," I began, snapping my belt around my waist. "I've always been one to root for the underdogs."

Their nerves showed in their smiles, but at least they were smiling. We weren't all out of hope yet.

"If we wrap this up quick, we might be able to stop that last assassin from dueling the captain," I said. "Because we all know our stubborn captain is still going to try fighting them."

We'd seen the last assassin's fighter leave. I'd considered intercepting it, but that meant exposing our position. Our only option was to watch it go. As it left, we'd heard the final orders given to the men in the control room. All the hostages were to be executed, no matter how the last assassin fared. The men all sounded woozy at the prospect, but they accepted it. We had no time to waste if we wanted to save them.

"I know you're probably all as sick to your stomach as I am, but I'm not going down without a fight," I said. "We've faced worse odds before, and you know, even if I die, I'll die keeping Gaia from getting what they want." The unease in my gut mixed with fire, the sort of rush I always felt when I got to break some rules. "Doesn't sound like too bad of a way to go to me."

* * *

Yama's voice was like falling snow: endless, soft, and as cold as death. His words blurred together until I could no longer guess how long I'd sat beside him, trying to whisper a response.

"I'm sorry," he said again and again, clutching my arm. He stared out at nothing, just as he had since Monono died. "Sorry, Harlock. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I never meant it."

At this point, his words felt as meaningless as my own. I couldn't seem to make sense of what he was saying, yet I answered without hesitation. "You don't have to apologize Yama, not to me, not to anyone. I've got you. We'll make it through this."

I couldn't even believe myself. That empty void punched through my chest made me wonder if it had all been a mistake. My whole life had been defined by mistakes. Maybe agreeing those duels had been the wrong choice. Maybe I should have never taken Yama onboard. Maybe I should have gotten another assassin like I was supposed to.

I still might have grown attached to one of the others as well. I doubted I could have ever brought myself to kill Monono – undoubtedly their plan in using him as an assassin. But now, instead of one killing me, all but one were dead. I'd killed so many before them in exchange for my life, what was six or ten more on top of that?

Just a fraction, and yet, such a heavy weight.

Nothing compared to Yama's suffering.

I could only hope he wasn't as empty as he appeared. That dead eye saw nothing, and no word I spoke reached him. He never moved, just held my arm and whispered his breath away.

The doctor walked out from the back room, his anger almost hiding the disturbed tint to his eyes. It was cruel of me to ask him to cut open a child like that, but we had no other way of learning what happened. Well, we had our guesses, but we needed a confirmation for something that sick. It didn't seem possible.

He scowled into the sink as he scrubbed away the blood. "We were right," he said. "The implants weren't just made to self-detonate after death. They could activate it at any time."

"I see."

Then we'd never had a chance, not a single thing to hope for. They were all dead men when they arrived. If I'd refused the duels or tried to hold them captive, they all would have died in the same manner as that poor boy.

Yama finally listened at the worst of times. His words shifted, his voice trembling. "My fault," he whimpered. "It's all my fault. Tadashi, Mamoru, Uncle Warrius, everyone – it's my fault. I should have let Marina kill me. Then they could have just gone home. They could have all just gone home to their families." His eye remained empty even as it filled with tears.

"Yama," I sighed. "There was nothing you could have done. Even if you had died, they would have come after me. Gaia clearly just wanted to be rid of them."

But that was the final thing I still couldn't make sense of. Sure, Gaia was a mess after our last stand against them, but killing off some of their most skilled soldiers just because of a connection with Yama was madness even for them. I was missing something.

Helmatier had implied some of them had done something to land themselves in hot water. If Zero had been blackmailed into proving his loyalty as she'd suggested, perhaps he wasn't the only one. But none of the other assassins had been willing to discuss the matter, perhaps because of the implant. Then did that mean…they knew about it?

"Doctor, do you think there is a chance we could block out the signal?"

"You're asking the wrong person," he said, shaking his head. "I can talk to the boys downstairs about it, though throwing something together before the next one shows up might be a challenge."

"If our standard jammers can't cut into it, it must work on a specialized wavelength," I said. "Tell them not to focus on the audio or visual feeds. Just try to lock down on whatever signals the self-destruct. Our scanners must have picked up something when it happened, and we can check back on the data at the time each of the assassins died to see if that same feedback occurred."

He nodded. "Just promise me you won't be using your wounded arm for anything strenuous."

"Not until the last assassin arrives," I offered.

With a roll of his eyes, he started for the door. "You won't have much luck getting through to Yama with all the drugs in his system, so go easy on him. It would be best to let him rest."

I doubted the drugs were the source of all our troubles. The doctor may have just been saying that to make me feel better, but I accepted it with a nod, while Yama continued murmuring to himself.

Once the doctor was gone, I rested my cheek against the top of Yama's head. I wanted to ask him about the final assassin, but that seemed cruel. Unless I could promise their safety, I couldn't pressure him for answers. Instead, I hummed for him, just loud enough to cover his soft sobs. I hummed old lullabies my father would sing to me, pieces of sailor's tunes Tochiro would play on his harmonica, and whatever strands of notes found their way into my head.

As his sobs turned to hiccups and he seemed too tired to speak, I settled us down against the pillows. With time, he would recover. He needed to grieve, needed to lose himself to suffering for a while. I had to understand that much. As much as I wanted to snap him back to reality, I knew it wouldn't work. I had to wait. I had to let him rest.

As he finally found sleep, I wondered how I ever could have asked him to take my place. He was no captain, and he'd told me as much. He said he didn't want to become me, so I couldn't allow myself to die facing this final assassin. I couldn't be content leaving Yama to a life of filling my shoes.

Or really, I couldn't be content separating myself from him. The true sin in my death would be leaving him alone. I needed him to keep me stable, and he needed me to be the commander bearing the sins of my crew as well as my own. Yama was not a person who carry all of that.

He was too young, too optimistic. He was rushed into being a killer, just as I had been. I wouldn't have wished that fate on anyone else…anyone else but him. He should never have been an assassin or a pirate, but selfish as I was, I was glad he'd been both. I needed him. I needed him to be that naïve botanist who always tried to find tactics that would lead to the fewest casualties. I couldn't make him be a captain. No, that was my job.

I found myself waking sometime later to the brush of fingertips against my face. Yama's eye was glassy and worn red by tears, but it seemed to take me in as he traced my scar.

"What are you doing?" I asked through the tug of sleep.

"Can't forget," he mumbled.

His skin felt heated against mine. When I reached up and placed a hand to his forehead, he leaned into it with a hum despite the burning warmth that radiated from him.

"Are you feeling alright?" I asked, unsure if I should get the doctor. It was likely just a stress fever, and I didn't need Zero yelling at me for moving around, but something needed to be done if Yama was ill.

"I should have told you sooner," he sighed as he nestled his head up beneath my chin. "I'm so sorry. I should have said something a long time ago. But I hoped he'd never come. I just hoped it wouldn't happen."

I wasn't certain what he was talking about or even if he knew what he was saying. "I should get the doctor," I said.

"Hm, no." He knotted his hands into my shirt. "Don't leave."

"Yama, you have a fever-"

"No." Sleep pulled on him, dragging his words off into soft breaths. "S'nothing. Stay."

I worried he might wake if I moved, so I held him until my arm fell asleep under his weight. But even as the alarm sounded, even as I pulled my prickling arm free, he didn't rouse.

"I'll do everything I can to bring this one back to you," I said, brushing the strands of hair from his face. "So you rest well." I kissed his forehead and prayed this wouldn't be a goodbye. Still, I had to treat it as one. "I love you," I sighed against his burning skin.

He remained fast asleep, the best I could have hoped for.

I hobbled my way up to the bridge, yelling for updates on jamming that signal from every engineer I passed. They all seemed to be running one way or another.

"Almost!" said one.

"We're trying!" said another.

"Uhh…" a third managed before dashing off.

"Stall them," the last one said. "We'll signal you when it's done, so you'll have to stay alive."

Easier said than done, but I nodded. I had to hope for something.

By the time I arrived on the bridge, the men all appeared ready to kill the last assassin themselves. I had a guess as to why. Our communications console gave three separate pings in the span of me walking over to it. This one was impatient, even though they'd arrived early. The entire screen was flooded with requests from them for a communications link.

Thankfully, I recalled how to set one up this round.

"Finally," a young, deep-voiced man sighed as he appeared overhead. I blinked at the sight of him, then turned to look at the stunned faces of my crew.

"What the Hell, Captain?" one barked. "He looks just like you!"

Apparently, I wasn't imagining things.

He had two eyes, shorter, fluffier hair, and a face free of scars, but it was hard to deny how similar we looked in every other regard. We even appeared close in age. He wore a stiff, pressed uniform and a cap like the men who came before him. Deep brown eyes showed sharp displeasure at the sight of me.

"Why-?" I began, but he spoke over me.

"I really don't have time," he said, sounding more stressed than rude. "I need to get this duel over with. If you must know, I'm Wataru Yuuki, assassin rank 1."

"You don't look Japanese," one of the men yelled.

With a sigh, Yuuki placed a hand to his face. "I'd rather we didn't talk about me," he said.

"Were you adopted?" another yelled.

Yuuki peered at me through his fingers, begging for help.

"Are you sure you're not related to the captain?"

I honestly wished he would help me out instead.

* * *

I lost to every other assassin in training, but Mr. Yuuki was a special case. The way I lost to him was in another league. He wielded a gun on one hip and a saber on the other, just like Uncle Warrius, and my uncle was the only one who seemed to stand a chance against him. My battles against him were short, ending with my death faster than I could blink. He was too quick on the draw, too sure with his aim, too strong, and my defenses couldn't keep up.

I rarely saw him outside of training. When I did, he always seemed to be talking to my uncle or Tadashi.

"Oh, Mr. Yuuki's real nice," Tadashi said when I asked about him. "He always beats me in training, but that's the only time he acts tough. I guess he's just weird with everyone because of the way he looks, you know?"

I nodded, but I didn't know. When I offhandedly mentioned to Uncle Warrius that Mr. Yuuki seemed to avoid everyone else, his expression screwed up with concern. "He has his reasons," Uncle Warrius said. "It's best that none of you get too close to him."

That little information I had raced through my head as I found myself alone with him for the first time. Even in training, my uncle stood by during every battle I had against Mr. Yuuki. It was an accident we wound up together. I'd gone to the lounge because of a cruel bout of insomnia. Exhausted as I was, I couldn't find sleep, so I wandered my way toward the thought of a late-night snack.

I didn't register that the light shouldn't have been on until I stood there with a sandwich in my hands, staring at the man on the couch. "Oh, Mr. Yuuki," I greeted around a mouthful of bread.

It was strange to see him smile, yet it looked so natural. He had warm eyes and looked almost hilariously nonthreatening in his pajamas. "Honestly, just Yuuki is fine," he said. "Or Wataru if you'd like."

I scratched at my nose, unsure I could bring myself to call him by his first name. I nodded and shoved another bite of the sandwich in my mouth so I wouldn't have to talk.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

I wasn't sure I wanted him to know about my poor sleeping habits, so I just shrugged.

"Well, since you're here, would you like to meet my family?"

I stared at him with the sandwich stuck in my mouth. I wasn't sure how he could interact with his family in this isolated place. We weren't allowed any outside contact. "Okay…?" I answered around the food in my mouth, more out of curiosity than anything.

"They'll be here soon. You can come sit down." He motioned to the spot beside him, leaving me no choice but to pad across the freezing tile floor and plop down at his side.

I couldn't seem to keep myself from looking his way, even as he looked off at nothing. Neither of us spoke a word against the ticking of the wall clock. But no matter how many quick glances I caught of his face, I couldn't seem to find what Tadashi meant when he talked about Yuuki's looks.

"Did you figure it out?" he asked with a smile, still not looking my way.

My spine straightened. "What?"

"People say I look like him."

"Huh?"

His smile widened as he turned my way, amusement shining in his eyes. "You really don't know?"

I tugged at my bangs, unsure exactly what we were talking about. "That's a bit cruel of them," he said. "You're going in not even knowing what your target looks like."

"Harlock?" I asked, finally able to put something together.

His hand dropped to the top of my head and ruffled my already-messy hair. "That's right. If you manage to board that ghost ship, the man you want to kill looks a bit like me. When they drop me off, they're going to alter my appearance so that it's not so off-putting."

Now I stared at him openly, my eyes flicking over every feature. In all honesty, he was attractive. There was nothing particularly frightening or noteworthy about his appearance other than his height, much taller than me. I almost asked how it could be that they looked alike enough that Gaia felt the need to alter him. It couldn't have been more than coincidence, surely.

But as I opened my mouth, someone else yelled from the doorway. "Daddy!" the young voice cooed. Yuuki's eyes flashed that way, sparkling with the purest adoration and joy. As I started to look back, a boy no more than five ran by and hopped into Yuuki's lap.

The little kid was definitely Yuuki's son, though he was absolutely tiny in comparison. He had the same fluffy mop of brown hair and bright brown eyes. His face, though, was too round and soft to mirror his father's, such pudgy cheeks.

Another boy followed, older and quieter. He shot me a suspicious glance. I guessed this one was also Yuuki's son, a kid around ten, but the only feature he shared with his father was his eyes. Everything else appeared to come from the blond woman who stood leaning against the door frame, looking just as tired as she was happy.

Yuuki shared the expression as he looked up at her. I felt like I was intruding. "Yama, this is my family," Yuuki said. "Manabu." He set his hand atop the younger boy's mess of curls, and the kid flashed a bright, toothy grin. "Mamoru." The elder boy continued appraising me with quick flicks of his eyes. "And my wife, Kanna. Everyone, this is Yama."

"Hello!" Manabu yelled far louder than necessary. "I'm Manabu Yuuki! I's four years old!"

Mamoru mumbled a hello.

Kanna bowed her head in greeting. "So you're Yama?" she asked. "I hear you make everyone worry."

"Kanna," Yuuki sighed, but she giggled at him.

"Nice to meet you," I said, too dazed to be offended. These people shouldn't have been here. It didn't make sense. Everyone else was separated from his or her family, yet here were Yuuki's. If they were here, that had to mean they couldn't leave either. A swarm of questions filled my head. Did they know about the mission? Why did they visit him in the middle of the night?

I was too afraid to ask.

Something must have shown on my face because Yuuki plopped his younger son into my lap. "Here," he said. "Manabu is good at tiring people out. Play with him for more than a few minutes, and I'm sure you'll be able to get to sleep."

"Oh, okay," I said.

He had no reason to trust me with his son, no reason to trust me around his family at all, yet little Manabu seemed equally unconcerned. I stood with him in my arms, unsure what to do with him, and he clambered over my shoulder and latched onto my back. I had no choice but to prop him up with my arms hooked under his legs.

"Looks like you're stuck with him now," Kanna said as she walked over and sat beside her husband. Mamoru wormed his way between them until he was properly squished.

"I's tall now," Manabu said, clinging to my neck. "Mr. Yama, you are my horse, okay?"

"Okay," I said. I didn't feel I had much of a choice despite the question.

"Good," he said through a yawn. "Now you gotta run. Go!"

The rest of the Yuukis covered their mouths with their hands to hide their snickering. I felt I'd been set up. It took a bit of jogging up and down the hall to convince Manabu that I'd been a horse for long enough. I hoped his squealing didn't wake anyone. Even after I dropped back onto the couch, trying to catch my breath, he sat himself in my lap, a bit too trusting of a prospective assassin.

"Daddy," he said, smacking my face with a chubby little hand. "Mr. Yama is friends. Bestest friends."

Yuuki nodded. "He's little like you and Tadashi, so be nice to him. He does get tired. You have to take good care of him."

Manabu was nice enough to come to my aid, still patting my cheek. "No, he's tall. And I's tired too. We go sleep now. Take good care of Mr. Yama."

Once again, I was trapped. The kid squished his cheek against my chest and promptly zonked out. Wataru and Kanna talked in hushed tones about menial things – silly stories about the other assassins or what the boys had been up to. Without any other choice, their soothing voices and the bundle of warmth on top of me led me to sleep.

But I woke to Yuuki gently shaking my shoulder. The other three were gone, as though they'd just been a dream. "You might be more comfortable in your room," he said.

I hummed my disappointment, struggling to keep my eyes open. Despite the soreness in my back, walking back to my room sounded awful. "Where'd everyone go?" I mumbled, sinking further down into the couch. He didn't seem to hear me.

"You're as bad as my boys. Alright then."

I didn't comprehend the arm around my middle until it was too late, and he'd tossed me over his shoulder. I dangled there in horror. A weak whine of "no" escaped me.

"Too late," he said.

While he carried me like a sack of potatoes, I covered my face until he dropped me in my bed. I found him smirking as I peered through my fingers. Even then, my mind lagged. "So where'd they go?" I asked again.

His smile faded, and he stepped back toward the door. He remained silent until he stood in the doorway. "Get some sleep, Yama," he said. "We have another duel tomorrow."

Once again, I felt I had no choice but to do as he said. Must have just been a strange dream, I told myself. That was all it could have been. Nothing else made sense. At least, nothing good made sense.

* * *

**Yells loudly I love the Yuuki family.**  
**But I also love them suffering.**


	13. Straight Flush

**Kei is best. Kei is bae. **

* * *

The interior of the satellite was nothing too impressive. Most of the offshoot rooms were bedrooms, so we skirted by them in hopes that no one would come out. I would have preferred to avoid any fights. Well, no, that wasn't true. I would have been happy to wail on every man there, but that just wasn't an option. We were outnumbered. Even if a fight were inevitable, our only hope was a scuffle with a handful of the crew. If they all ganged up on us at once, we were screwed. This wasn't our turf. We couldn't play by our rules. And without my armor, I felt naked.

At least we knew several of the bedrooms weren't occupied any longer.

Though we'd memorized the layout and our man back on the Gullwing fed us information as we went, the whole place looked maddeningly similar. The too-white lights against gray tiling and white walls painted the place in a nauseating color. If it weren't for the floor numbers marking our progress, I would have assumed we were running in circles. I almost preferred the ventilation we'd crawled in through, but that grew too thin to use for long.

For now, the place was eerily silent. We'd seen no one and heard no one. It seemed like the lower floors had been abandoned. Regardless, we had to toss jammers on so many cameras, I lost count. The black half-spheres hung from the ceiling every dozen meters or so, staring out at nothing. The whole place left an itch in the back of my skull. It was just wrong – all of it. Empty and cold and wrong.

I couldn't chance breathing too loud, so I didn't sigh when we reached the third floor. It was our best guess as to where they were holding the captives, as one of the larger rooms was locked from the outside. If that wasn't it, then someone was in for a world of hurt. I just would have preferred to not have to capture and interrogate someone in enemy territory.

Even the light tapping of our boots was too loud as we neared the room. At least two people stood outside – hopefully only two. Judging by their shadows, that was the case. We pressed our backs to the inner wall, and my knife slipped into my hand.

"It'd be easier to take them to a different room like the others," one man said. "One at a time, you know. I don't want them all screaming."

"The brothers won't let you separate them. Besides, we need to get this done quickly. It's not like they can put up a fight."

"Then the brothers can go together. This won't take that much longer. It's just better if they don't see it coming, alright?"

I agreed with that much at least, which was why I tried to be quick as we shot around the corner and tore our knives across their throats. But I saw the fear in their eyes, saw them tried to grab their guns. Even so, I felt no remorse as they gargled away their last breaths. As we opened the door in their place, my gut told me I'd done the right thing.

There were four of them, all too young to be there, too young to have done anything wrong. They huddled together on one bed despite more than enough being in the room. The way the older kids clutched the younger ones showed they knew what was coming. I handed off my knife to one of the guys before stepping into the room. I just hoped they couldn't see too much of the bodies.

"Hey there," I breathed, keeping my steps slow as I neared them. "There's no need to be afraid now, alright? Big sister Kei is here, and I'm going to get you out of this place."

* * *

In person, I found Yuuki even more troubling. Our heights were a perfect match, and he wore his weapons just as I did – a gun on his right hip, a saber on his left. His visage had softened since entering the hangar. As his eyes swept the room, they lingered on the scars left from our fights. Burns and tears from gunshots marred the metal. With a steadying breath, Yuuki tore his eyes away to meet mine.

"Harlock, is Tadashi's-" Something caught in his throat, making him hesitate. "Is his body still here?"

I nodded. "You came early. We haven't had time…" And Yama hadn't gotten to say goodbye.

"I should have gone before him," Yuuki sighed, though he didn't seem to be talking to me. His eyes drifted once more. "It should have been me at the very beginning, but they wouldn't let me."

"Do you want to see him?" I asked. Perhaps it was a stalling tactic, but I felt I would have offered as much in any other case.

He seemed to consider it for a moment but shook his head. "No," he said. "There's no time. I have to get back."

"You know they'll kill you. That monitoring device has a kill switch. They're likely to activate it as soon as you leave." If we could get that jammer working, we could keep him safe as long as he stayed with us. The moment he was out of our range, they could easily take him out.

He nodded. "I'd suspected something like that, but I have to try. I have nothing unless I try. But if I die here, in this duel, I ask that you put me to rest alongside Tadashi." His voice wavered. "I just don't want him to be alone."

"I promise."

It was kind of him to consider the possibility that I could win, but I knew better. As the top assassin, he undoubtedly had the ability to take me down even without my injuries getting in the way. I had to fight defensively, or I would die quickly.

But that would be obvious to him and perhaps to those observing him. If I tried to stall too long, they would get suspicious, and he wouldn't put up with it.

"If you'll offer me one curiosity before you kill me," I said as he drew his saber. Luckily, it seemed he was playing down to my handicap. If he had wanted to have a duel of guns, the match wouldn't last long – I wouldn't last long.

"Depends on the question," he said, wary eyes flicking over me.

I had a feeling I knew what I wasn't allowed to ask, which made the question all the more troublesome. If he was so wary of being questioned over why we looked so similar, that meant it was more than mere coincidence.

"Yama said the assassins were ranked based on ability as well as how you would fit in as pirates," I began. "If you were ranked first, they imagined you fitting in well with my crew, but considering the circumstances…"

He nodded. "They put a great deal of work into altering my appearance. It was all for nothing, but had you stopped where I was stationed, my appearance wouldn't have been noteworthy at the time." His brow furrowed. "But you picked that empty desert instead."

The sorrow in his voice gave me pause. "Are you upset that I didn't pick you? Or that I picked Yama?"

"It doesn't matter now." He raised his saber and stepped back into stance. "Many things happened which shouldn't have, but I've wasted too much time. Draw your blade, Harlock."

I hoped my engineers were close to a breakthrough because I doubted I had much time left at all.

"Very well." I drew my saber and took my own stance. His form was more polished than my own, the sort of thing academy instructors drilled into you. I'd gotten out of the habit of being so rigid long ago, but I offered him a quick, lazy salute with my saber, the sort I used to give to every sparring partner.

His eyes softened for a moment as he eased his stance and returned the salute. But any evidence of kindness or concern vanished as he attacked. Zero fought with strength, Helmatier with speed, and Bainas with unpredictability, but Wataru fought with precision. His attack was trained to be perfect, no errors or hesitation. Blocking alone was a challenge, and he caught my parries as though he'd thought of them before I could.

Despite his impressive ability, the fight seemed almost too fair. It seemed he wanted an honest duel despite his rush. He never once tried to use my blind side to his advantage. He didn't attack below the belt, didn't attempt to put pressure on my bad leg. It almost felt like a fencing match, him pressing me back toward the line. My hand numbed from the force of guarding each blow. My only advantage was that he felt too trained, too perfect. There seemed to be no true unpredictability beyond that.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to pull any tricks in return. The match felt too honorable for that. He wanted to win on skill alone, and he would. I could sense the wall closing in at my back. Unless I attempted to attack in return, he would press me into a corner.

I didn't have much of a plan. I just didn't have time to think of one. As the heel of my boot halted against the wall and his saber collided with mine, I pressed back. One-handed sabers weren't made for wrestling, so Yuuki's face screwed up with confusion and surprise as I began trying to physically push him back. Before he could understand that my stupid tactic was truly stupid, I grabbed the front of his shirt with my free hand. "Sorry," I said before I yanked him forward and knocked our skulls together.

He stumbled back several steps, clutching his head. He looked too confused to feel pain or anger. "What in the world?" he muttered.

I wasn't much better off, holding my pounding skull as well. Surely I could have come up with something better than that, but that was the way my head engineer found us when he ran in, gasping for breath.

He and Yuuki looked at each other with equal confusion. "Captain, what did you do?" the boy panted.

"I stalled," I muttered.

He squinted at me as he found the air to respond. "It's jammed. We got it. But, like, all of it is jammed. We couldn't isolate one signal, so we just shut down the whole thing. They're blind and deaf. We figured that was better anyway."

An oncoming storm swam in Yuuki's eyes. "What is he talking about?" he asked, turning his anger on me. "What did you do?"

"We shut down the receiver," I said, straightening myself. "Gaia can't monitor you anymore."

Horror and anger fought for control of his expression, but neither won. "No!" he roared, storming up to me. "You can't do this! They'll kill my sons! Turn it back on!" He dropped his saber just to grab me by my collar. His grip was so strong, my heels left the ground. "Turn it back!"

"They'll kill you," I answered, firm as any order. "Even if you go back to them with my head, they'll kill you and your sons."

"I know!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "But at the very least I can die with them. They're just little boys." His grip loosened, and I slipped to the ground. "I can't let them die alone," he choked, tears in his eyes. "At the very least I can hold them, so they're not too scared." He took a slow step back as his tears fell.

I had to pray Kei wouldn't be too late because we would be. "Nazca," I snapped.

The boy jolted to attention. "Yeah?"

Reaching out, I grabbed Yuuki by the arm and dragged him toward the door. "We're going to jump. We need to get to that base. Find Kei's location."

"What?" Nazca squawked. "But if we track the ship, the enemy will see its location too."

"If they don't already know she's there, they're about to."

"But the breach in the hull hasn't been tested!"

"I trust your repairs."

"Ah jeez," Nazca whined as he tailed us out into the hall. "Alright, guys! Prepare for a warp!"

Yuuki looked too stunned to comprehend or argue.

* * *

As it turned out, Gaia wasn't too happy about us stealing the kids back. It didn't take long for someone to notice the corpses, and within minutes we were pinned down on the second floor. The guys stood on either side of me as I guarded an armful of kids. We kept the enemy back by firing around the corners, but they were closing in to our little space of wall. We had no cover in the area otherwise. We had to make a run for the stairs, or we were all dead, and I couldn't exactly carry all four kids.

I knew the two smaller ones would have to be carried for sure. The little girl, no more than seven, was a trembling mess, clinging to me as she gasped for air. The youngest boy looked too scared to do much of anything but stare wide-eyed. The older one, who I assumed to be his brother, held him close and frantically watched the edges of our cover. The oldest one, maybe 13 or so, held something silver to his chest and tried to stay steady. They all looked close to passing out, and I didn't trust any of their legs.

"Everyone's going to have to get a kid in one hand and a gun in the other," I hissed. "We have to go."

The guys glanced uneasily my way, but each gave a nod of understanding.

"I've got the girl," I said.

"I can give you an opening."

"I can get the brothers. Don't look too heavy."

"Then I've got the last one."

"Guess I'm covering the rear then." Despite the exasperation in his face, he seemed to be smiling. Maybe this was all too crazy to respond any other way.

"Ready?" I asked myself and them. "Now!"

The little girl gave a squeak of surprise as I yanked her against my chest and dashed toward oncoming fire after our lead. Luckily, there were fewer men on this side, only the ones who had been in their bunks when the alarm went off. I took out one as I turned the corner. Our lead took a hit to the shoulder before slamming the butt of his gun into the face of the guy responsible. I heard someone shout curses behind me, but all I could do was run and hope. There was no time to look back.

My head swam with adrenaline as we ran. Gunfire followed our tail, but no one impeded our path beyond the ones we took out. We couldn't go back out through the vents quickly, but they were our only option. The door to the hangar had jammed as soon as the alarm went off. We just had to shove the kids in the vents and hope for the best.

"How many more of them do you think there are?" I yelled back.

"At least ten!" our rear responded. It was good to know we still had him.

As we rounded the corner on the final staircase toward the base engine room, our lead spat a curse. I collided with his back just as he stopped. In front of us, a bulkhead sealed the path.

"Oh," I felt myself say. My legs went cold.

Before we could even turn around, a hail of gunfire rained down on us. I dropped to the ground, curling around the girl and firing half-blind up the stairs. Her scream mixed with the other childrens'.

Something drowned all of it out – all the gunfire, all the screaming. It sounded like a roar, deafening in the metal hall. The room, or perhaps the entire station, shook like the Arcadia did when it took a hit. Another scream followed, too high to have come from a human. The roof above us shattered as though made of glass.

Debris filled the room, too much to see, but I could have recognized the humming above us from anywhere.

"Whose idea was it to crash through a wall?" one of the guys said though coughs of dust. "Those idiots."

More gunfire sounded from above us, but none of the blasts headed our way. "Is everyone alright?" I asked.

The guys hissed and grumbled their affirmations, but none of the kids said a word. The girl looked alright, at least physically. She still hiccupped between her tears, but I didn't see any scratches. The brothers were still in the arms of one of our strongest men, and they looked dusty, but breathing.

"Kid, did you get shot?" I heard as I turned toward the last boy.

He looked as though he hadn't noticed, as though he didn't know what the gaping hole in his side could be. He reached toward it as though curious, but I dove for him. Clamping my hand down over the wound, I ignored his cry of pain and pulled him up into my arms.

"It's okay," I gasped, rushing up the stairs. "Just stay awake. We'll get you to a doctor."

"Susumu?" a small voice called from behind me. It was the first I'd heard any of them speak.

"Susumu?" I asked. "Is that your name?"

He tried to look at me, but he kept blinking, kept trying to find focus. "Yeah," he breathed after a moment. "Susumu Kodai."

"Alright," I gasped, trying to see through the haze of dust on the first floor. People were still firing, but I couldn't tell enemy from ally, and I couldn't draw attention to myself until the area was safe. I had to keep the kid awake. His blood felt too warm as it seeped through my fingers. No matter how I tried to hold the wound, he just seemed to bleed and bleed.

"Alright, Susumu, what's that you're holding?"

"Hmm?" He seemed as though he'd forgotten. He looked down to the silver thing in his hand. "It's my brother's harmonica," he whispered. His eyes looked so heavy. This wasn't right. It was happening too fast.

"Medic!" I yelled. I didn't care if I got shot. I needed to help him.

"Are we going to see my brother?" he asked as I sank to my knees. His eyes looked too dull to see any longer. "He said he was going to talk to the pirates. You're pirates, right? So he's with you?"

All I knew for sure was that if the Arcadia was here, then his brother was dead. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip trying to hold it steady. "Yeah, Susumu," I whispered. "He's with us, so I'll take you to him, okay? So you just stay awake for me."

He tried to say something. His mouth moved, but no words left him.

Then he stopped moving altogether.

The captain found me first, trying to convince a dead boy to speak. I couldn't tell much through my tears, the smoke, and dust, but I knew the captain by his voice. "It's alright, Miss," he said. "I've got him."

"I tried," I choked as Susumu slipped from my arms. "I tried to help him. I'm so sorry."

The harmonica fell into my lap, and my hands curled around it.

A hand latched onto my shoulder. "Kei," the captain said, his breaths suddenly quick. "Where are the others?"

"Downstairs," I said. "They're protecting the rest of the kids."

"So they're okay?" the captain asked, his voice more even once again.

I looked up from my hands in confusion, and there were two of him. "Yeah," I said. "Everyone else is safe."

One of the captains yelled at someone to get me back on the ship, and I felt myself led until I was in the infirmary. "I'm fine," I felt myself say over and over. "Where's Susumu? Where is he? He's hurt. I… I have to get him to his brother." My hands tightened around the harmonica, the metal warm from his hands and his blood. I knew he was dead, but I couldn't control my voice. People kept trying to talk to me, but I didn't want to hear it.

Then I felt a hand over mine. "Kei," Yama called, his voice broken by tears like mine. "It's okay. They're together now. It's alright."

It wasn't, but of all people, I couldn't tell him that. He was the one it needed to be alright for. He put his arms around me, and I cried on his shoulder. It wasn't right. I was supposed to come back with everything solved so he wouldn't have to cry anymore, so he and the captain could just be alright. He wasn't supposed to be comforting me.

"It's alright," he murmured. "It's over now. Let yourself rest."

* * *

**Sleep well, Kei.**


	14. Royal Flush

**Thanks to those of you who stuck around. It's been fun.**

* * *

"You may want to give him to one of my men before you see the other children." I nodded to the boy Yuuki's arms, undoubtedly related to Mamoru. The boy's soft features and brunet curls matched the image in my head of the assassin. That meant the bloodied corpse Yuuki carried had once been the Susumu that Mamoru had mentioned.

Yuuki's eyes ached with regret as he looked down at the boy. "Alright," he whispered.

With a nod, I turned and raced down what was left of the stairs. Chunks of debris marred the path. I'd known we were close to hitting Kei and the others, but ramming the station was our fastest option. One body was too many. I loathed to think of the consequences had we been any slower.

The air toward the foot of the stairs was still thick with kicked-up dust and ash. I struggled to make out the forms at the foot of the stairs, the deep red of the emergency lights offering little aid.

"Captain, that you?" someone called.

"It's me. Is anyone injured?" I asked.

Any attempts at a response were drowned out by the scream of "Daddy!" Something slammed into my legs, threatening to knock me over. "Are you okay!?" the small voice cried, now directly in front of me. "What happened to your face? Did you get hurt? Susumu got hurt! Is he okay! Big sister lady took him upstairs. Did you see them?"

I knelt down to find tears filling wide, terrified eyes. Ash clung to the boy's hair and clothes, puffing into the air once more as he tackled my neck in a hug. He had to be one of Yuuki's boys, but as he broke down into sobs beside my ear, I couldn't bring myself to tell him I wasn't his father. Hesitantly, I circled my arms around him and held him in return.

"Ah, it's alright," I said, though perhaps it wasn't. "We've cleared the upper floor, so we'll get you all to the infirmary and get you checked over."

The men heaved sighs of relief, and though I could make out one gripping his bleeding shoulder, they appeared alive enough. The other little boy frowned at me until a voice caught his attention.

"Manabu, Mamoru," Yuuki called as he descended the last of the steps.

The younger boy pulled away from me, his mouth agape. "Daddy!" he cried again. He looked back to me, then his father, then me again.

I caught his hand as it started toward my eyepatch. "I'm afraid my name is Harlock," I said, grabbing his other hand as he tried to snatch my eyepatch away with it as well. "You don't want to see what's under there. Trust me."

"You're Harlock?" he barked, turning to his father. "Daddy! It's Harlock!"

"I know it is." Yuuki scooped the boy up and placed him onto his shoulders. With two quick strides, he lifted the young girl into his arms.

"He looks like you," the small boy insisted.

"I know he does, but he is our friend. Are you all feeling alright?"

"I'm okay," the elder boy said. The girl nodded, swinging her feet.

"I'm okay," the younger boy chirped. "Is Susumu okay?"

"I'm afraid not," Yuuki said, his voice low and gentle. I hadn't expected him to be honest with them right away. "He was badly hurt. He didn't make it."

The children paused. The elder reached up to fist his hand into his father's coat, but silence held until the youngest took his father's hat and dropped it on his own head. It fell to cover his eyes. "Like Mommy?" he asked, pulling the brim down.

"Yes," Yuuki said. "Come on. We're going to go on Harlock's ship now. Then we'll get you all cleaned up."

They all mumbled some sort of confirmation, but none of them cried. My gut twisted at that, to think that those children had seen so much death already. They had learned to bury their pain and accept the death of their friend.

"I'll show you to the infirmary," I said as Yuuki walked past. "Once my doctor looks them over, they can use the baths. I won't have any clothes that would fit them though."

"It's alright. We'll make do. Thank you, Harlock. I can see why Yama stayed with you. Kanna was right." He sighed. "We should have sided with you as well."

* * *

Kei stuck herself to my side, resting her temple against my shoulder. We shared a single infirmary bed while the doctor tended to a few gunshot wounds. Looked like nothing was too serious.

"We thought you were dead, you know," Kei mumbled, seemingly half-asleep. I couldn't be certain I was awake. The room felt tinged in a numbing haze, my bones achingly heavy. But that was probably whatever drugs the doctor had running through my veins.

"Thought I was dead too. Still not sure this isn't a dream, honestly. Everything was shaking when I woke up, and there was a bunch of yelling going on. Everyone was too busy to tell me what was going on."

"Maybe they couldn't understand you." A smile tugged at Kei's lips. "You're slurring terribly. I'm sitting right next to you, and I can barely make out some of what you're saying."

"Huh. I'm tired."

"Me too."

Looking down, I found Mamoru's harmonica in my hands. My mind swam for a moment as I wondered how I'd gotten it. If not for the coolness of the metal, I might have thought I was imagining it. I started to ask Kei where it came from, but the pink, splotchy stains on her hands struck me. Right, she had brought it to me. That was why she'd been crying. Susumu was dead.

I'd only seen him in a photo, a smaller version of his brother with round cheeks and bright, wide eyes. I wanted to keep that as the image of him in my mind, alive and grinning forever in a snapshot. When I tried to think of Mamoru, the sight of the light fading form his eyes impeded on every happy memory. Kei must have seen the same thing with Susumu, must have seen those bright eyes hollow.

"Are you feeling okay?" I asked her.

"No," she sighed. "Sometimes I forget we can't always 'win' everything. Sometimes there is no real way to win. We're just lucky to make it out alive. We just have to try to save everyone we can. What about you? You've been through Hell and back. How are you holding up?"

"I'm not sure. Think I'm too drugged up to feel much. Feels kind of like I'm swimming, except there's no water, I guess."

She giggled at that, so I must have said something right.

"Harlock's okay, right?"

"Yeah." The word dragged from her mouth. "He looked fine…whichever one was him."

I wasn't certain what that meant, but I just felt content to hear that he was alright. Before she'd come in, I'd asked anyone else who happened by about Harlock. Some of them just smiled and nodded, and thinking back, they probably just did that because I was incomprehensible, but it was comforting nonetheless.

A small voice approaching from the hall made me pause. It sounded like a little kid, just chattering away. When the door slid open, Harlock stood there with one kid sitting on his shoulders, another in his arms, and yet another trailing at his heels.

"Speaking of," Kei said as I jumped to my feet.

"You're back!" I cried. I couldn't help but break into a grin.

"Yama?" His eyes widened, and he settled the girl in his arms to the floor as I rushed to him. Before he could right himself fully, I put my hands on his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He seemed too surprised to react, freezing in place until I pulled away. Kei cackled as I looked into Harlock's…eyes. "How did you get it back?" I asked, my brow furrowed.

"Wow, do I get a kiss too, Mr. Yama?" I looked up to the small boy resting his hands atop Harlock's head. His chin sat atop them, a grin on his face.

I knew those curls and pudgy cheeks. "Manabu? Is that you? You're so big!" Well, no, he was still tiny, but he was bigger than when I last saw him.

"Yes," he cooed, reaching for me. "I wanna kiss too."

If Manabu was here, and Harlock had two eyes… I opened my mouth, but all that came out was an "ah," sound of realization. My cheeks and ears burned as I drew my hands back.

Someone cleared their throat from the door, and I peered around to see Harlock leaning against the doorframe. Irritation reflected in his eye as he looked to the man in front of me – Wataru Yuuki. I looked back to Yuuki as well to find him glaring toward Harlock in return.

"Yama," Yuuki said, smiling as he returned his gaze to me. "I thought you were dead. I'm so glad to see you're well."

"I'm on so many drugs," I blurted out, hoping to explain to both men why I'd kissed the wrong one.

Amusement shone in Yuuki's eyes as he tried to hold back a smile. "It's alright. Kanna said we would be lucky to add you to the family." He placed a gentle kiss to my forehead before righting himself.

"Kanna?" I echoed. "Is she here too?"

I could tell from the way all their eyes drifted from me that something had happened to her. Little Manabu and Mamoru pressed themselves closer to Yuuki. Even the small girl I didn't recognize reached up and patted Yuuki's hand to console him.

"She's gone," he said in the tone of a man trying to keep his composure. "But let me see to the kids for now. I'll tell you everything once they're cleaned up and you're…sober."

Mirroring his weak smile, I stepped out of the way so he could lead them to one of the open beds. Harlock took his place in front of me. His hand came to rest against my cheek as he smiled, his brow furrowed with worry.

"You're a mess," he said. It wasn't quite the romantic greeting I'd hoped for.

"Speak for yourself."

His smile widened into a grin, and he pressed his forehead to mine. His arms wrapped around my back, pulling me flush to him. "Now then, where's my kiss?"

"Guess I already gave it away," I hummed. He must not have gotten the chance to shave because his stubble scratched at my palms as I took his face in my hands. I should have known better than to think Yuuki was him, considering how clean-shaven Yuuki had been.

Kei gave a groan. "God, could you two take your sap somewhere else? It's too sweet. I'll puke."

"No puking," the doctor called. "I have enough to deal with."

My hands dropped from his cheeks as I recalled how many people shared the room with us.

"Right," Harlock sighed, though he didn't release me. "We'll put this on hold until we're discharged. I still say you owe me a kiss though."

"Fine-fine," I hissed. "Just let go."

As much as I wanted to be mad at him, it was just too damn hard to be upset when his smile lit up his eye. Seeing Harlock relaxed enough to flash a real, childish grin was a rarity, and it had been far too long since his gaze wasn't tinged with fear or pain.

Still, I faked a pout. If he thought I was really mad, maybe he would behave.

* * *

I forgot we owned a sewing machine, but with Yama's help, Yuuki made quick work of converting some old uniforms into new outfits for the kids. They looked like different people after baths and a good meal. Color returned to their cheeks, and the little girl's hair shone gold.

She introduced herself as Rebi Monono, Tadashi's little sister. Though I struggled to find the words to explain that her brother had died, she nodded as tears filled her eyes. "I know," she'd said, bunching her hands in the hem of her shirt. "He's gone. I know."

Yama was quick to scoop her up and coddle her until she fell asleep in his arms, worn out from crying.

Yuuki introduced his boys as Manabu and Mamoru. Manabu was insistent on trying to snatch away my eye-patch, asking me where my scar came from, and demanding to know why I was trying so hard to look like his father. His father scolded him with an impressive show of patience, even as Manabu tried to climb up my cape.

"Get down, son," Yuuki said. "You don't want to strangle Mr. Harlock."

"What is it for?" Manabu demanded. "He's not a superhero. He's a pirate."

Mamoru only seemed to speak when he too scolded Manabu, often picking Manabu up around the middle and hauling him away from me. It seemed to be an effort just to keep his brother as far from me as possible, as Mamoru's eyes always darted over me in distrust.

Yuuki shooed the two off to sit on my bed with Yama, and before long a pile of snoozing kids pinned Yama in place. He didn't seem to mind. I wasn't certain where I would sleep that night, but it was clear it would not be my own bed.

I'd offered Yuuki wine to help loosen his tongue, but he looked at the bottle as though it contained poison. And with Yama preoccupied, I was left to drink on my own. Yuuki took a seat at the foot of the bed, examining each of the children to ensure they slept.

"Are you up for giving us an explanation now?" I asked Yuuki as Yama fought away a doze.

"Alright," Yuuki began with a sigh, though a pause followed. "I suppose you know the gist of the assassination plan, so I'll begin with the fallout. After we were all retrieved, we were informed of Yama's betrayal."

Yama's eye widened. "You were all on those planets that long?"

"Yes, though we all made it back fine. Gaia was planning to leave us there until we were picked up by Harlock as a part of his crew or until one of us had killed him. When you threw a wrench in their plans, they pulled us all back. From what I heard, much of high-command was split on what to do with us. We were still a perfectly good bunch of soldiers and assassins, so it seemed reasonable to just put all of us back to work, but they'd put a great deal of resources into training us to kill Harlock, so some still wanted to try to continue the mission, despite the expectation that Yama would recognize us. They were in shambles after all you'd done, so things were a mess at the time."

His brow furrowed, his eyes growing ever-distant as he looked to the past. "We were all put on standby for a while. Again, they made the mistake of keeping us all in one place. Kanna…Kanna kept digging on what had happened. She was always a smooth talker, inconspicuous too. People tended to give her information without thinking twice about it, and she came to the conclusion that Yama had been in the right. Considering Gaia had held her and the boys hostage for months, it wasn't hard for her to convince me as well."

"They were held hostage?" Yama piped in. "Is that why they were on the base?"

Yuuki nodded. "I wouldn't accept the mission. To my knowledge, they were treated well at that time, and I was allowed to see them to ensure it. That didn't keep me from having a bitter taste in my mouth. My superiors said it was my duty to take on the mission, but I wanted nothing to do with it." He shook his head. "I think that added to Kanna's desire to rebel. After the mission was a bust, she spoke to your uncle a great deal. I think he was on her side before I was, really. He had so much faith in you, and because he was allowed to continue his standard duties, he became our information source. He was our only real ally besides each other at the time. That…that was his downfall."

Yuuki's eyes had drifted to the floor, though he didn't seem to see it. His shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. "By the time they decided to send us all back to standard missions, Kanna had convinced Kodai, Tadashi, and Bainas as well. I think Bainas just liked the idea of an unwinnable fight, but the boys were always on your side. You know them." A smile flickered on his lips, dying away just as it appeared.

"We stayed far away from Marina and Helmatier, but the rest of us worked as quietly as we could. We built up a rebellion. We had a network of thousands. The other assassins' home planets were filled with dissatisfied people. Everyone wanted to cut off Gaia's head. We wanted better distribution of wealth and resources. We wanted less military interference, more freedom."

My brows rose. In such a short span of time, one woman had created the sort of rebellion I'd strived for over the past hundred years. A few small pockets of revolution had existed in the past, but I'd never heard of one quite so large. Undoubtedly, that was their downfall.

"I'm uncertain who ratted us out, who pointed the finger back at Kanna," Yuuki continued. "But all the assassins were rounded up, even Warrius, Marina, and Helmatier. Gaia knew we'd been the source of it all, though they had no confirmation of who exactly was involved beyond Kanna." His tone grew empty as he continued. "They executed her as an example. They made my boys watch along with the rest of us. Then they said we'd have to prove our loyalty. We would execute Harlock and the traitor. The mission was born from that. Marina, Helmatier, and Bainas were the most willing to face you both, so they did not require hostages. The rest of us did. Gaia wanted me to go last as a precautionary measure, but we were allowed to choose the order beyond that. And, well, you know the rest."

Yama tugged the kids closer, his eye heavy with pain. Yuuki revealed nothing more with his expression. The story had taken too much out of him.

"I'm sorry," I breathed. "If I'd known sooner…If I'd known anything…"

He shook his head, stopping me from anymore excuses. "Kanna's goal was to contact you. She wanted for all of us to join you. I suppose, now that I'm here, I've accomplished that much for her." As he looked up, his eyes burned with renewed fire. "If you'll have me, I want to join your crew."

Truly, he didn't have anywhere else to go. The idea of dropping him and the kids off somewhere to fend for themselves didn't sit right with me. The mission had been my fault. All of their deaths were on my shoulders. I owed them this much.

"Of course you can join," Yama said before I could speak. "And we'll take care of the kids – keep them safe."

Yuuki's gaze softened as it flicked over the children. "I would prefer for them not to become pirates, though I suppose it's unavoidable at this point. Perhaps we can create a world where they don't have to be in order to survive."

I could have done without him suggesting that being a pirate was such a torturous profession, but I understood the desire to give the children greater freedom. I wanted all of my crew to join by choice. At the very least, Yuuki said that he wanted to. I owed him a spot on my crew just like I owed the children a chance to live as they pleased.

"I would never wish to force a life of piracy onto them," I said. "Every man deserves the freedom to choose his own path, including you. You should feel no requirement to stay here once everything is settled. The doctor even said he could remove the implant without harm."

Yuuki nodded. "Good to know because the damn things sure hurt going in."

"I do ask one thing in return for you staying here, however."

His brows rose, a silent sign for me to continue.

"I want to know why it is you look so much like me."

"I suppose that's fair." His tone didn't match the acquiescence of his words. He seemed to want to bite his tongue as he continued. "Look, I don't know everything, so I probably won't be able to answer any questions. I would also prefer you didn't discuss this with anyone beyond the doctor because I'm certain he'll find out in due time. Under no circumstances should you tell my sons. I don't want…" His glare against me broke away. "…that trouble for them."

"I promise," I said, though I wasn't sure what this had to do with his children.

He took a slow, deep breath. "I wasn't born. I was grown in a lab. I'm your clone. We're identical down to our fingerprints."

I waited for the joke, just stared him down and waited for him to crack a smile.

He was taking too long.

"No," I said. I'd intended to say more about how that was a bad joke and not possible, but I only managed the one word. He couldn't have been my clone. He didn't even like wine.

"You don't have to believe me," Yuuki said with a shrug. "I chose not to believe it for a long time. Truthfully, I feel no connection to you. I do not consider us the same person or even family, and I want things to stay that way." He glared daggers into me. "Don't you dare ever think to hold any claim over my sons."

"I won't…" I said like a deflated balloon. But when I thought of it, technically, the boys were biologically my sons as well. I was certainly no father to them, but as I looked at them, I couldn't help but think that I could have had children like that. My head buzzed with the thought that they could have been mine.

Yama didn't look shocked enough. It bothered me. Rather, he looked thoughtful, his eye rolled up. "So," he said, shattering the tense silence we'd fallen to. "Really, I did kiss Harlock in a sense."

"Not really," Yuuki corrected just as I was about to. "But you're welcome to do it again anytime."

One of these days, when all my injuries were healed up, I would duel him again. Maybe not to the death, but we would certainly need to have another duel so I could prove myself the better man. He was too damn cocky, thinking he could speak to Yama that way.

Unfortunately, Yama had decided to take it as a joke, and the way he laughed with a blush splashed across his cheeks left me a bit too flustered to be properly angry. I couldn't recall the last time he'd looked that happy.

He cried often over the next several days. Sometimes the children cried with him or comforted him. Sometimes I held him close as he sobbed apologies, for crying and for a hundred other things. Sometimes Yuuki cheered him up, and sometimes Yama couldn't bear to look at him.

Despite that, Yama could laugh again. He'd cackle at the kids' antics or snicker at my attempts at being romantic. And always, when he was done crying, he'd break into a fit of giggles. With tears still shining in his eyes, he'd ask a question – always the same, yet always different.

"Have I told you about when Bainas took over the station's loudspeaker?"

"Did I tell you how Uncle Warrius would carry off anyone who got injured, even the smallest scratch?"

"I don't think I've ever talked about how we kept pissing off command the day we all left."

"No," I'd answer every time. "I don't think you've told that one yet."

He'd wipe away his tears, trembling lips widening into a grin, and I'd get to hear him remember everything Gaia wanted forgotten. That small victory was ours, one thing I would never let them take from him.

"They took us all to this hangar area," he began. "There was a small transport ship for each of us."

* * *

Mamoru smashed a kiss to my lips, directly in front of my uncle. It was the first and only time he'd dared to touch me in front of Warrius.

"Kodai," Warrius growled.

Mamoru slipped out of his grasp just as Warrius snatched for his collar. "Just one for the road," he said, grinning. "I need something to tide me over until we have that date. Right, Yama?"

"Just get on your damn ship," Warrius snapped. "We're running behind schedule as things are." I had a feeling he was just upset that Mamoru had kissed me after I'd gotten a hug from him.

Mamoru bounded out of his reach and snagged a hold of the ladder on his ship's side.

"What are you doing?" Warrius sighed as he gave up the chase, watching Mamoru climb to the top of the ship.

"I'm on it now, like you wanted. And anyway, I wanted to give a proper goodbye to this hellhole." Clambering to the sleek, metal surface, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. "Hey! When I kill Harlock, you'll all have to buy me a drink!"

"Yeah right!" Bainas cried, already halfway up her ship's side. "I'll be the one to kill him! You all wait and see!" She hopped to her feet on the top, her hands on her hips. "I'll best him with a saber too."

"That's cute," Helmatier called. I hadn't even seen her climbing her ship. She just seemed to appear on top of it, sitting with her legs crossed. "But I will be the one to do it, and then you can buy me drinks if you like, I suppose. I won't say no."

"What about me?" Tadashi huffed. His legs flailed as he pulled himself up to the top of the ship. "I could kill him, but I don't want drinks."

"We'll buy you dinner then," Mamoru said, laughing.

"Shouldn't the winner be the one buying for everyone else?" Marina asked as she stepped up onto her ship. "They are the one getting the reward, after all."

When I noticed Yuuki scaling his ship as well, I realized I had no choice but to join in on the strange ritual. Warrius stood in the middle of the room, one brow raised in confusion as he looked up at all of us.

"That sounds like a fair bargain," Yuuki said. "I'd be happy to buy dinner for all of you."

"How 'bout it, Yama?" Mamoru asked as I found my footing on the uneven surface of the roof. He tossed me a wink. "You going to buy if you get the bastard?"

"Uh, sure." I had no idea why they thought the assassin who took Harlock's life could come back alive, but they all seemed so sure of it. Maybe they all had plans I didn't know about.

Mamoru crossed his arms with an assured nod. "It's settled then. Whoever kills Harlock buys dinner."

"So you'd all better get back in one piece!" Warrius snapped. "Do you hear me? That's my last order to all of you!"

"Yes sir!" we answered in chorus.

"So I'll see you all again," Yuuki called.

"Perhaps on another mission," Marina said.

Helmatier shrugged. "Or perhaps in another life."

"'til next time," Bainas said with a lazy salute.

Mamoru, being Mamoru, gave a sweeping bow. "_One fond embrace ere I depart, until we meet again_."

"Um, yeah," Tadashi added. "I'll see you later."

"Goodbye," I said when it seemed to be my turn. My throat threatened to close against me. "Thank you all for your help. I hope we can meet back up someday."

Someday, when we didn't have to be called assassins any longer, I hoped we could meet again as friends. Even if Helmatier was right, and it had to be in another life, I just hoped I knew well enough in my next life not to let them pass me by.

Maybe then we could be that lucky.

* * *

**And thanks to everyone who reviewed...several chapters ago when I still got reviews haha. I hope you all enjoyed me killing so many characters. I was going to kill more, but my girlfriend encouraged me not to. **


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